Having loved and lost, I think I am qualified to say that I regret nothing.

I learned that I like men with muscular builds, grey eyes that change colors in the sunlight, and hands that are rough. I learned that sleeping together isn’t necessary for complete happiness. I learned that deep, monotone voices are good for putting anxious hearts at ease and to rest. I learned that feeding a full grown man from a spoon is not as terrible as it sounds, and in many ways is quite romantic. I learned that lunch is a very intimate thing, and people dine with those they are comfortable with and don’t mind being vulnerable around.

I don’t know at what point the line was crossed and he decided that it wasn’t me after all. I would be lying to say that I wasn’t surprised and crushed by his admission that he was ready to be done. I looked for any reason to implore him to stay: a year and a half was too much time to throw away. I never thought it would come to that intensely painful moment of realization, but when it did, I took it full force. I didn’t bat an eyelash in the face of the excruciating pain I was facing, but instead welcomed and challenged it.

I cried for three nights. Heavy, wailing sobs wracked my body as I was reminded of the tragic loss that I had to bear. I let my pillow have the full-fledged version of my agony, but it gracefully and mercifully did not judge my dis-shelved state. I held my arms around myself in an attempt to re-gather the pieces that I feared were coming apart at the seams. My heart shuddered under the weight of the emotion that was hurled upon it, night after night. For the thing about pain is that it demands to be felt, and so I allowed myself to feel.

On the fourth night, I read a new book and listened to a new song. I was reminded that I was an independent, unique, and valuable individual that was entirely comfortable with functioning on my own. Things were going to be okay, and I would return to my free-spirited self in my own time. I would find happiness again in the arms of a better, stronger, and happier man. I would know love again, for the end of one thing is the blissful beginning of another.

I rekindled old friendships that had died in the face of my love affair. My companions were graciously forgiving, and I learned that they were quite wonderful people that I had dearly missed. I tried new foods, reorganized my belongings, did research on new and exciting technologies, and moved into a new home. My life was going on without him, and I felt a thousand pounds lighter without the strain of a relationship to hold me back. I smile at my strength and know that I can handle the struggles life throws at me because I am strong. I am beautiful, and I am worthy.

Someday he will come knocking on my door. They always do. When he does, I will answer, and I will take him in and I will begin to foster the kind of friendship that we can grow in together. However, I will never again seek out his favor, as it has been established that we are too incompatible to maintain a romantic relationship. He will eventually come to regret his decision, but I trust that he, too, will move on and find love somewhere else and see that things are better this way.

I will never forget his loving, tender gaze upon my face when we awoke in the mornings. I will never forget how his calloused hands encircled my own small, dainty palms. I will always remember the taste of his kiss, the sensation of his arms around me, his charming laugh, his bright eyes, and the youth I felt when I was with him. He gave me many marvelous gifts throughout our time together, and for that I am ever grateful.
And so, in this tribute to love that has been had and lost, I restate that I regret nothing, and I wish him the best in life, and may God bless us both in our ventures into a new, exciting life.