I’ve only been with one person my whole life.

I was pretty shy in high school and somehow always managed to friendzone myself in college. When I graduated, I met this guy on a dating app. I didn’t even want to go on the date because I was ashamed of meeting someone off of an app—keep in mind, this was a few years ago, before the stigma around it lifted. It was basically looked at as an app to find a hook-up buddy or to “Netflix & Chill.” But I was honestly so lonely, I figured it was worth a shot. I knew I had a lot to give and just wanted a chance to give that to someone. It’s not easy finding nice guys once you leave college—it’s not easy finding them in college either.

Against my tormented stomach, begging me not to go, I went on the date.

And it was the best date of my life. The only date of my life, but I felt like it couldn’t get better than this. We went for drinks and ended up hopping to a few different bars. Our first date lasted a total of 5 hours. He texted me after to make sure I got home safely and immediately set up plans for our second date.

Before I knew it, we were exclusive.

Not that I had anyone to compare him to from before, but I knew pretty quickly he was the one. I wasn’t in any rush to get married and neither was he, but our families asked a lot when that day was going to come. Even though it wasn’t something we saw happening right away (we were fresh out of college), we did love to fantasize about our lives together. We’d talk about our future kids and where we’d live. It was like our little romance novel.

But somewhere along the way, things changed.

After a few years of being together, we got comfortable. Stagnant, even. He made a lot of sacrifices for me, passing up on job offers from different cities just so we could be together. At first, he was ok with it. He insisted on staying here with me. But as time went on, I could tell he was harboring some resentment. And slowly, like sand slipping from the cracks in my fingers, he started pulling away from me. I don’t even think I noticed it at first. Or maybe I just didn’t want to notice it until the distance that had wedged between us was so apparent it was impossible to ignore.

The more he pulled away, the tighter I tried to hold on.

Ironically, I think that pushed him away even quicker. It was in the little things. The way he didn’t always want to hold my hand. The way he’d snap at me over virtually nothing. The way he wanted to spend more time with friends and less with me. And mostly, the way his affection for me seemed to have run thin.

I was scared to say something because I didn’t want to lose him.

I thought if I just continued on silently, this phase he was going through would vanish and he’d turn back to the man I had fallen in love with. But he was miserable in his job and it started to seem like he was miserable with me too. I didn’t talk about it with any of my friends. I didn’t want to speak it into the world. No one knew how I was crumbling inside. Not even him.

When he broke up with me my world shattered into a million irreconcilable pieces.

I wanted to talk about it with him, get some closure. He didn’t. It was clear he had put a lot of thought into this break up and he didn’t want to beat a dead horse, so to speak. Here and there, he’d sprinkle in a light conversation with me. He’d say hi and ask how I was doing, I’d answer, and he take two days to get back to me. My friends told me to cut off communication. They said I’d never get over him if I gobbled up every bread crumb he gave me. I didn’t think I’d ever get over him.

As time went on, I realized I was mourning the idea of the relationship more than the guy I lost.

I was more distraught over the fear I’d never find a serious relationship again and that I’d end up alone. I was completely closed off to even talking to anyone else, but months later I went on a few dates with another guy. It felt good to have someone to look forward to again. But I didn’t have that spark of emotion with this new guy. He was just easy to be around. I’m supposed to feel giddy around a new love interest, right?

He ended up cutting things off with me and that blow hit just as hard as my first break up.

I know, I know. I had only gone on a few dates with this new guy and I didn’t even feel overly excited about him. But I questioned what was wrong with me. What was so wrong with me that two guys broke up with me over the course of a few months?

I want to say I’m all better now. That I’ve found the secret ingredient to feeling happy and complete even when I’m single. The truth is, I’m still figuring it out. But I’m trying my best to trust that one day, I will look back on this chapter of my life and appreciate it for teaching me some great lesson. I don’t know what that lesson is yet, but I have to believe there is a great one in the midst of this mess.