On broken hearts and how to mend them

Two days before my 33rd birthday, as I walked up the stairs of my apartment building after coming home from a pre-birthday dinner, I received a text that broke my heart – good and proper. My heart was already giving out (see previous blog) but a final few text messages sealed the deal by smashing into pieces.

Ok, that’s a bit dramatic but mainly true… But before you feel sorry for me – really, I’m fine. I was a willing and involved participant in the breaking of the heart and there is no bad guy in this story. It’s life, it’s beautiful and I’d rather have my heart broken than to not feel anything at all.

Luckily, I live my life in a way in which the external doesn’t impact the internal. Peace in chaos. Comfort in the uncomfortable.

I can’t say I’m masterful at this practice just yet, but it’s something I actively work on. I’m not always able to pacify myself and occasionally I give into human weakness and reach for something outside of myself for comfort.

Food. People. Things. Experiences.

The way my life is set up, even a broken heart doesn’t take me out of the race. I work, I live, I eat, I participate. I do new things. I experience joy upon waking up and have deep, consistent gratitude for everything and everyone in my life.

I perceive every experience as a potential lesson, an opportunity to work through something – a breakthrough waiting to happen. A turn of the spiral. This requires being open, having knowledge of the moment, deep conviction, clear intuition and lack of judgement. To receive with curiosity what the universe wants to give us. Sometimes it might not be what we want but it’s always what we need.

So when my heart went snap, I did something out of the ordinary for me, but totally out of the old me’s playbook.

Literally half an hour after this text message of heartbreaking proportions, another man messaged me on Facebook wanting to meet. Normally I wouldn’t, but I was sad, feeling totally sorry for myself and the timing was just too coincidental.

I wanted to know why the universe was bringing this man to me RIGHT NOW? What’s the lesson? What are you trying to show me?

He was handsome, strong, funny and smart. And, I needed to be with a man. Not necessarily BE WITH a man, but you know… sit next to a man, hear him speak, watch him, be with his masculine energy, as a woman. Just be.

We met. We sat. We talked. We bonded about things which I don’t normally get to bond with other people about. It was nice. It probably could have been a nice friendship – from my side, that’s all I felt.

I could tell he had his sights on sleeping with me that night. I knew there was zero chance of this happening. I didn’t know why… It’s not like I haven’t had a one night stand before.

But something felt off.

At one point he asked me to dance. At this stage, we had no physical contact yet. We started dancing. Before I knew it, his hands had wandered from my hips to my torso and just as quick, they were on my breasts, which he proceeded to squeeze.

Now… Let me tell you something.

THAT JUST DOESN’T FUCKING FEEL GOOD. I mean, all things aside, it’s just not pleasant to have your breasts touched in such a way without any pre-game, namsayin? I don’t know who is teaching these men what, but it ain’t the way homeslice.

I pulled away and made it clear to him that it’s not happening, this is not the way. He asked me “What is the way, what do you like?”

I was a bit stumped at the question… In my experience, we find these things about people naturally, organically. It’s different with different people. We all have our preferences, sure, but ultimately it’s about the connection, the vibe, the flow.

He kept trying to touch me – my breasts, my thighs, other places. It didn’t feel weird or creepy. He was actually quite nice and sweet, but a bit too keen. I kept pushing him away.

And finally, it dawned on me. The thing that was off.

This man is trying to touch me like a lover, yet he hasn’t even tried to kiss me. HE HASN’T EVEN HELD MY HAND!  I mean, one of the most romantic and erotic moments I ever experienced was when a French man held and touched my hands for two hours.

So I looked this guy dead in the eyes and told him exactly that.

Me: You’re trying to touch me like a lover. But you haven’t even tried to kiss me.
Him: Yeah, kissing is super intimate though.
Me: You’re trying to fuck me though.
Him: Yeah.
Me: Isn’t fucking intimate?
Him: Well yeah…
Me: Don’t you see the disconnect here?
Him: *something slowly starting to click* Yeah.
Me: How can you connect with me when you are so deeply disconnected from yourself?
Him: I want to have a good time, don’t you want to have a good time?
Me: I promise this is not going to be a good time for me.
Him: You don’t know that.
Me: Have you ever had conscious sex, with anyone?
Him: *curious* No.

I can see slowly, something, starting to turn in his mind. He starts telling me about what he wants from life and his future, other women, his past.

Him: You know, I really want a wife and kids.
Me: I don’t know if this is the way to do it, but what do I know.
Him: When did you last have sex?
Me: Maybe in May, June. With my ex.

Then it dawns on me to ask him a question that is none of my business.

Me: How many women have you slept with since May?
Him: Oh… about 60.

The only thing I felt for him in that moment is sadness and pity.

Me: This empty sex… is it what you offer these women?
Him: Yes.
Me: And they take it?
Him: Yes.
Me: With nothing deeper. Just smashing?
Him: *sadly* Yes.
Me: Isn’t that sad?
Him: *sadly* Yes.
Me: Here’s the million dollar question. How many of them come back?
Him: Most.

That was the saddest thing of all. Everyone so desperate to connect, yet willing to accept less than what they are worth, less than what they deserve, to just feel something. Anything.

Him: You’re the first woman who said no.
Him: But you know, one day I will fuck someone and fall in love.
Him: That’s how it works isn’t it?

In this moment, despite my heartbreak, all I could feel was gratitude. To myself – for my ability to love, love strongly, love fiercely. Love with compassion, in conscious creation. Without fear. To the man who broke my heart – for the moments we shared, for the beautiful connection we have, for the moments in time that belonged to just us.

Him: Will you stay with me? Sleep here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.

I didn’t stay.

I knew the man I was sitting next to had never felt the kind of incredible and deep connections that I have been blessed enough to experience.

Even if they end up in heartbreak.

And I fully understand it’s his experience which he is choosing. It’s his creation.

It’s just a touch sad.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: