A few months ago, I shared the most heartbreaking moment of my life on Twitter. The worst break up of the century. While most persons found it hilarious, it was a harrowing experience, borderline depression and a long walk on the boulevard of self doubt.
My kindred inhabitants of Twitter empathized with me, but demanded the context of this unusual break up, albeit I wasn’t keen on divulging the exact details, but today is your lucky day. I have chosen this particular incident as our case study for my next blog entry. I will give an account of what really transpired in this blog and the next entry I will relay on how to deal with a heart break. This was the strangest form of concluding a relationship. I suffered from overwhelming-acute distress all the while scrounging for the crimes imputed to myself, to deserve such irresponsible emotional abuse. I punched my keyboard to search our common virtual kaleidoscope of information. What was this alien mental disorder, which thought and emotions were so impaired to lose contact of external reality? One could just literally and physically run from a situation. It’s a miracle I do not suffer from abandonment issues. No, I wasn’t dating Forrest Gump, thank you and goodbye. A detailed blow by blow account would require a lot of emotional stamina. I will briefly explain also to clear misguided speculations and minimize the significance of embarrassment.
So, it was at a random Christmas party that I met this sexually alluring and charismatic gentleman. While I would like to label it ” love at first fight”, it was more of inducement to accept whatever offered by virtue of a tall, dark and gorgeous human being. We kicked it off, I mean he had all the desirable elements and qualities that I expected from a man. He was absolute, complete and perfect for me. That evening we enjoyed each other’s company, we talked, laughed, danced and eventually exchanged numbers. After a few magical dates we prompted into a full swing relationship. They were a glorious six months, this man went out of his way to make me happy, he was a dream come true. Chivalrous, accomplished, courteous, funny, loving, intelligent and smelled divine. He owned a car dealership and lived alone in a one bedroom apartment at the outskirts of the city. This relationship was intense, we were talking of marriage and went on to plan a trip to all of the 4 Disney Parks with our future kids. *slaps knee* On another beautiful day, he surprised me with an unexpected visit at my work place. We decided to buy food and eat from my office. So, we stood along first street,debating on which joint to buy fried chicken and unhealthy oily fries. Out of the blues, the man took off, tearing down the street like a mad man. I remember it so vividly, I can almost hear his coat shoes pounding the pavement. Man was clad in a slim fit Giorgio Armani, suit jacket flapping and his tight pinched buttocks disappeared into the Nelson Mandela Street curb. He was going at 100 Usain Bolt per second and nobody was chasing him.
I was scared shitless I have a terrible phobia for terror attacks. Naturally danger alarm bells were clanging in my head and my heart threatened to leap out through my mouth. What was even more unusual was the serenity of the rest of the world, the street vendors selling their merchandise, the daily hustle and bustle of the city continued while one mad man tore down the street like a Tasmanian devil. I wanted to run after him but confusion and shock induced momentary paralysis. I stood there scanning the perimeter with my eyes for what could have triggered this unusual reaction. After 30 minutes of waiting, while trying to call his suddenly “unreachable” number, I trudged back to the office on an epic walk of shame. I wasn’t hungry anymore, I told one of my colleagues and she thought maybe it was some prank in bad taste. Several possibilities swirled in my mind.
- He was a wanted fugitive. This could be a bad scene of ” I Almost Got Away With It”, from Investigation Discovery channel. ( I watch a lot of that)
- All this was too good to be real. He was a manipulative psychopath that faked the entire relationship and went through the motions for good coitus? Didn’t know how to exit the relationship and fled.
- Maybe he wanted me to follow him and waited around the Nelson Mandela Street curb, on his knees with a placard written, “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”
- Suffers from a mental disorder. Psychodrama of re-enacting an event from the past? Maybe Oedipus complex, he ran back to his mama?
- Sonic the hedgehog reincarnated?
- He remembered that he left his bathroom tap running?
- He was married and spotted his wife. But then that would have attracted a lot of attention to him. *lower lip shrug*
- He was in a cartel and owed some drug lord a shocking amount of money. He spotted him and ran for dear life because he didn’t want to put me in danger so, he cut me off entirely. (This makes absolute sense) ?
I don’t know, because at his car dealership the usual friendly faces of his employees were stone cold and denied me entry the following day. He changed the locks of his apartment (I had my own personal set of keys). His friends blocked me, he blocked me, his sister stopped picking my calls. After two months of denial and trying to get hold of him but to no avail. I accepted that he dumped me in the most unruly heart shattering manner since the existence of humanity. I needed an explanation to arrive at some sort of closure. I resigned my quest to get at the bottom of this and painfully accepted this rejection. A year later ( call me pathetic, whatever, I don’t care), I went to his car dealership only to find new offices for a travel agency. I gave in to the temptation to go to his apartment. What? Even Frodo gave in to the allures of the ring. He apparently moved out from that place. He disappeared from the face of the earth. Its crazy but I hope he is not in trouble and he is okay. Maybe one day I might bump into him and explain why he Forrest gumped me.
Now I can look back and laugh, but at that time I was devastated. It didn’t make sense because we were smooth cruising and so deep in love, so I thought. What happened on that cold afternoon of July 2012 is still a mystery. With this story comes the next blog entry on ” How To Deal With A Heartbreak.” Don’t drink and drive this festive season, stay safe and arrive alive!