What is the end of a love?

It is not the end of a relationship. When mine were over, whether by my decision or the other’s, love didn’t end there, at that moment of the breakup.

We think it’s over because there is a feeling of emptiness. Perhaps of anger, if the breakup was unexpected or abrupt. There are several negative and strong feelings, regardless of who ended: feeling of betrayal, anger, heartbreak, hatred, distrust, feeling of being the idiot.

But the love remains there. We still remember the day we met, the most significant dates of the relationship, the first and last trips, the memory of the touch, the affection, the conversation.

For men who have this curiosity, yes, we think about our exes until the end of life, in some cases. Not because we think there is a way back, but because we cling to the moments we lived. We remember what it was like to wake up with you, choose the Sunday restaurant together, walk around the streets on a Saturday morning, these simple and ordinary things that make a relationship the magical encounter of human beings.

For me, there is no such thing as love is over, next please so fast.

I am the mourning person for a broken relationship. I stay 1, 2 years until. I meet other people, but I mourn internally. Despite harboring a mortal hate for the person, I remain sad. I think of the person yes often and as if he were in my life.

I think what it would be like if we had continued, what we would be doing today or planning. Our future trip? Our next important step, to live together? Perhaps even a family, in wilder daydreams?

And suddenly, one day, love ends. Like this. Vupt.

You realize that you can fondly remember the person, all the good times, and that he is now past in your life. Definitely. There is no longer any hope or desire for a return, a reunion and a second or third chance as in romantic movies.

The person has finally become a friendly memory for you. And nothing else.

And it gives a huge peace in the heart. You are finally able to look at your past, without suffering, without thinking “what if…” “as it would have been”….

In my thirties, I had some loves that were strong. When the relationship ended, I felt that I would never recover, even in cases where I was the terminator agent.

I envy people who 2 months or 1 month, ball forward. I can´t.

Now at 40, as incredible as it may seem, I think the ending is less ravaging. Perhaps because of life experience, perhaps because we are already more aware when we throw ourselves head and soul at the person knowing that there are great chances of not going to a future.

I was talking at an outside table (still in a pandemic) with friends about the end of the relationship and the end of love.

All, absolutely all, say that it is impossible to become friends with an ex right away. Except in cases of ultra exception, such as a long marriage, or old age, it is difficult to believe in a detached soul who can be friends with the ex and not think about a revival.

I have no maturity at all. Even when I’m done, I can’t look at the ex’s social network. Call me immature, but I delete it, I cancel everything. I can´t look at the person having a good time, even if he deserves it. 

And about all, I hate all that malicious gossip from friends (or enemies) that comes to you without asking if you want to know, with whom he is going out now.

The point is that we feel like a disposable being. That was never anything. Because he is already with another, and happy, and fulfilled. This is the worst for us. We never know what goes on between four walls, but I particularly have the gift of self-sabotage and flogging: you never liked me. You´ve wanted to get rid of me for a long time. You have already forgotten 100% of me.

It really takes me 1 to 2 years to be able to be friends again on social media and look at his life without feeling a bit of envy, jealousy or hate. But when you are able to achieve this,  my friend, you have won and triumphed. Another step in life.

And then… There were 3 times when I realized that the love ended, that this stage has arrived, and the ex returns from the catacombs wanting a revival. Which was great. No, I didn’t give in to the revival. I mentally sent the exes to hunt for coconuts and moved on.

So guys, a tip from a woman: when you go after her to ask her back (or at least take off a revival sting …) if she refused and you admire her for her blasé look like “ok, now I’m in another time, but okay, we are good ”LIE. We all feel that little bit of pride and revenge in saying mentally with all the middle fingers to you: FUCK YOU.

Because love ends. But the rage and bitterness of foot in the ass, of betrayal, sometimes remain folks.

Jokes aside, when love ends for me it doesn’t mean sadness, grief, depression. It means that you finally triumphed over grief and that you can now see your ex without anger, and with all the affection that he gave you while you were together. And that yes, love is a pain that is worth living and yes, it is a miracle of human beings. Next please!