“If it hurts, you’ll always remember it.” – Adam from Girls

Part I:

Every once in a while, I’m forced to acknowledge that you never really know what someone else is thinking. Generally, I’m the type of person who oscillates somewhere between the impenetrable aloofness of a vagabond, the hair-trigger of a gunslinger, and the foolhardiness of a cynical optimist. I guess none of these are desirable categories to find oneself in, and that’s likely part of my problem: I’m either oblivious, fixed to kill, or engaged in well-meaning acts of self-deception. There’s no room for nuance, and even less attempt at developing simple awareness.

Fast-forward to my 30s and now 40s, and me trying to pursue relationships with women. Well, mostly I was just trying to get lucky. But occasionally, I’d find one that I really liked and try to make it work; they never did for long, and I bear the brunt of most of those flame-outs. It took me an awful long time to learn from my past mistakes, but I showed some signs of promise even if they remained stunted.

Fast-forward to last summer (2025), and I thought the stars had finally aligned. In a quick and unexpected event, a gal I’d known for six years strictly as a friend soon became a lot more than that, and while we weren’t “in love” or talking about the future, all signs pointed to those things being possible. Until one day I realized that I had no idea what she was thinking all along. How it felt apart, and so quickly, I still don’t have a full grasp on. But it’s been a year since it did, and it has long faded into the recesses of my mind. Thanks in part to the gal I found more recently.

And as much as I thought the Summer 2025 Chick could have long-term relationship potential, the one I linked up with around the holidays more recently screamed it (or so I came to think). This relationship moved fast. Communication was always strong. Excitement to see one another was always high. Squabbles and headbutting were largely avoided, and the few times where there was some tension, it was easily smoothed out. I felt overcome by this wave of feelings that washed over me, and thankfully, she had similar sensations. We were both hesitant to admit this at first, and hesitant to push the connection along too quickly, but it soon took on a life of its own. We talked of the future in a way I hadn’t done with a girl in quite some time, and we both believed in it. Everything outside of “us” became fuzzy to me, though I certainly don’t think I lost myself. If anything, I found a piece I’d been long missing. We were in a good place.

Then I looked up to see the train coming right at me.

It can all be over in the blink of an eye. (Image retrieved from here and comes courtesy of Gustavo Fring.)

She’d been a little distant, or so it seemed, for a couple days, but nothing too weird; though, it did tingle my sixth sense. On a Friday she indicated that she was feeling a little “off kilter” and wanted to take the night to journal through her thoughts and feelings. We weren’t going to meet up until that Saturday anyway, so I didn’t make too much of it, especially since she assured me that whatever it was wasn’t about me. She said she was looking forward to seeing me the following day.

Often, I wake up to texts from her, especially when there hasn’t been much communication the day before. This was not the case. I went about my Saturday business, coming home around 11:30am and called her. No answer. I texted, “Is everything okay?” No answer. It wasn’t for another 90 minutes before I heard from her, but via email. We’ve communicated a lot by email, specifically when we have long things we want to think through to say to one another, but we hadn’t in a while – all of this was happening face-to-face these days.

It started out with trepidation, but the first line that really caught me off guard was this one: “To prepare you, this email is not intended to be a breakup email. But I guess it isn’t great, either.” I winced.

The very next line?

“Yesterday, an old flame contacted me for the first time in years. We had an intense history and were on and off for a while before I got married. We have been mostly no-contact for 10 years. Before yesterday, if someone had asked me what I would do in this situation, I would have thought that I would be mostly unbothered. But, to my surprise, I found myself wanting to reconnect with him. I was shocked with how hard it was for me to decide what I wanted to do.”

The train hit me head on.

It was right then that I was forced to acknowledge that I never really knew what she was thinking all along. I thought I did, but I was wrong. She seemed sincere, but I don’t know that I can believe that any longer – even if I still want to.

At this point, it’s all pretty raw. I’m very restless. I don’t want to talk about it to anyone but her, but she’s asked for at least another day. I don’t know if she’ll ask for more space tomorrow. I couldn’t resist the urge to write back to her; I felt that I was owed at least the right to respond in the moment, though I’d rather have done so to her face. I haven’t yet heard how my response was received…

The first time we hooked up, towards the end of the night I said to her, “Do you know how at the start of relationships there is always a lot of hope and possibility?” She smiled and nodded yes. I then said, “Let’s try to hold onto it for as long as we can.”

Now it seems that hope and possibility have slipped through my fingers. I probably couldn’t hold on much longer anyway; the train fucking ran me over.

Part II:

I went up to see her that Sunday, and I thought we’d worked things out, she was open about all of her concerns and the things she did and did not want in her life. She’s been married or with her husband for a decade, and before that, she’d had a series of short but intense relationships where she’s lived with her boyfriends. She didn’t want any of that anymore; it hadn’t worked for her. She assured me this had nothing to do with the guy from her past who contacted her out of the blue – it had more to do with what it jostled out of her in general. Besides, she said, she only knew herself in relationships. Who was she by herself? Things seems to have smoothed out after that conversation, despite her misgivings and unanswered questions, and we had a few good days over the next week or so, but she didn’t seem quite right.

Then the following week came and she was noticeably less communicative. I got that feeling that I knew something was off, but she wasn’t copping to it. A day shy of two weeks from receiving that email that upended what I thought I knew about her and us, she called me, teary-eyed, and said, “I can’t do this anymore.” I was in shock again.

It wasn’t a long conversation, and she apologized for not doing this in person. The next day we were to go to a wedding, my friends, and she said she’d still go. I asked her if we could talk before it, and she agreed. We had a nice, heartfelt conversation. I asked her if we could have as much fun at the wedding as we did on our first date, she said “yes” and we did. It may have been our best day spent together ever, and it came the day after the end of our relationship.

I only had about another week until an already-planned two-month trip out west, something that was going to be a challenge to the relationship in the absence of the new circumstances. She’d booked a flight to come visit, but that was off now. She agreed to spend one more day with me before I left – not the three we’d originally planned, but it was something. I made a very nice dinner, she stayed over, we had a great conversation, but it was left with the ball in her court – all the power in her hands. Not something I’m used to or comfortable with.

At the time of writing, it is exactly two weeks from when she broke up with me, but I still find myself holding onto the possibility we’ll get back together when I return. My rational brain knows it’s foolish, but my animal brain is trying to preserve this love and feeling for as long as it can. I told her I’d let her set the pace of communication while I’m gone; it’s the only option, really, if what she needs is time and space. It’s very hard for me. Especially because there is no guarantee on the other end of this.

I’m still holding onto Hope & Possibility, but I’m starting to think it’s all been a mirage. How can life change so quickly? I guess I should’ve been looking for the train. It never misses an opportunity to run me over.

Marco Esquandoles
Broken-Spirited and Brokenhearted