After Guy walked out, I didn’t see him for four weeks. Now that seems like a long time, but at the time, it flew by. Living alone in the apartment was actually sort of fun. Of course, that was between the hysterical crying, forty phone calls a day to the lying cheating scumbag and watching Prison Break (don’t ask me why Prison Break—most probably just because it was there). I got to eat chocolate for breakfast, drink wine for dinner and did not lift one finger toward cleaning anything. For the past four years of my life, I had literally been his slave, always doing what I was told, and despite the heartbreak, it was such a relief not to have to do anything for anyone else. During that time, I barely ate, rarely went to work and seldom spoke to anyone, apart my family and friends in the UK via Skype. I did, however, desperately call Guy up to forty times a day, begging him to come around. I was so lonely and heartbroken. All I wanted to do was see him. Nonetheless, he remained strong, no doubt with the help of all of his friends, family and the blond slut I had since learnt, through Facebook, he had been sleeping with. He did not contact or see me for four weeks.
I truly hated him at that point. Looking back, I wish I could say I was this strong independent woman who took the breakup in her stride—even that I played hard to get and just cut all contact with him, but that is not true at all. In all truth, I was a mess, which at the time I was ashamed of, but now, with retrospect on my side, I believe this was just the beginning for me.
After four weeks of living alone in a relentless, never ending cycle of tears, sobbing and wine, our rent was due and so Guy came over one Sunday afternoon to discuss the options. His name was the one on the rental lease, so I guess it was his head on the chopping block if we did not pay our rent. At the time, obviously, I hadn’t really put much thought into the rent. I never assumed he would just pay it. On the other hand, I didn’t bother to pay my part of the rent either. I knew if I didn’t, he would have to contact me, and at the time that was exactly what I wanted. Although heartbroken, I was also smart enough to know it would take the rental company a long time to evict me, and I knew it was very unlikely there would be any lasting damage to me, as ultimately I wanted to return to the UK to live. Guy, therefore, had a lot more to lose than I did, and that made me feel happy and a little less like my life was spiralling out of control.
I didn’t know he was coming over that day, as he never bothered to call or text first, and I got the shock of my life when I answered the door. It was 5pm, I was extremely hung-over from the endless wine I had been drinking and I had been sent home from work, by a very understanding boss, three days out of the previous five. I was still in my PJs, and there was vomit on the bedroom floor, which I had not bothered to clean up, from my drinking binge the night before. I truly was a mess. The apartment, needless to say, was in a far worse state than I was, as I had refused, in protest, to clean or tidy anything for the previous four weeks. But to be perfectly honest, at the time, I just didn’t care. As soon as I saw Guy, I gave him a huge hug. I had been so lonely and had missed him so much, but he did not return the hug in the slightest. I invited him in, hoping he wanted to talk, maybe to try and rekindle our relationship. Maybe even to apologise. But as he sat down and scanned the room in complete disgust, I realised he was not there to check how I was or to beg for my forgiveness. As we sat there in silence, I started to cry uncontrollably, but he remained calm. I would love to say that was the minute I got over him, when I saw him for the heartless man he truly was, and when I became a new strong liberated woman, but that was not the case at all. I literally just sat and sobbed for the entire time.
After losing his temper with my constant crying and realising he didn’t have the patience or empathy for that kind of interaction, he coldly asked me to move out of the apartment or pay the entire rent, which he knew would not be possible on my wages. He then got up, and without even saying goodbye, walked out the door. He was so cold and heartless that if I had had a knife handy, I honestly would have killed him. I felt so alone, and I truly hated him for dragging me all the way to the other side of the world, away from all of my friends and family. Little did I know that only a few months later I’d have everything to thank him for.
‘Heartbreak changes people.’ — Unknown.