What Hurt More Than Losing Him Was Knowing He Wouldn't Fight To Keep Me

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my dating life, it’s that some breakups hurt way more than others. The one breakup that really wrecked me was one with a guy I’ll call Frankie. 

Frankie and I had gone through a lot together. When we first got together, Frankie and I had to overcome a lot of problems. He was the father of my only child, and we had to put her up for adoption because of the fact that we didn't have enough money to raise her adequately. And, eventually, despite the insane odds against us, we managed to make a good life for ourselves. Our child was put into good care with regular visits, he was getting job offers on a weekly basis, and I was even getting somewhere with my career.  

Things were really beginning to look up — well, with one exception.

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Frankie had grown distant and cold. He wouldn’t open up the way he used to anymore. He didn’t want me to spend time with his family. So, I put in more effort into our relationship. I wanted my daughter to know her parents were together.

I took him to fancy restaurants. I took him to hang out with my friends. I treated him to new pairs of shoes and did whatever I could to please him. I figured it was a mood.

But he stayed cold. He just didn’t want to talk. Rather than operate as the unit we once were, he had started to go solo. I had gotten sick of him treating me like an option and even more irate about the fact that he didn’t ever seem to appreciate anything I did. He didn’t act like I was part of his family or even bother introducing his mother to our daughter. How could I not be upset?

I just wanted love and affection again. I begged and pleaded for him to spend the night with me. He said no. I told him that I didn’t feel appreciated, that I wanted commitment and that I didn’t want to be snapped at. I told him he was hurting me and pushing me away. Which, incidentally, was his moment to tell me that he no longer wanted to be in a relationship with me.

“What the hell do you mean?” I asked. “Did I not treat you well?”

“I don’t care,” he said.

“What about your kid?” I asked. “What about our family?”

“She’s with her new family,” he said. “But, look, I don’t feel like it.”

“Feel like what?”

“I don’t feel like being with you. I want to be single,” he said. “I don’t want to be part of your family. I'm too young, I should sow my wild oats.”

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Bam.

That was it. That was the end of the relationship with the father of my child. The worst part was that he didn’t even break up with me in person. All of this was done via text. I was reeling, and called him up and begged him to stay a family. He didn’t care. He didn't care about me, his daughter, or anything I did to make him happy. 

For a while, I couldn’t understand why this hurt on such a primal level. Was it the fact that he just obliterated the family we were supposed to have? The family I had fought so hard to keep together? Was it the fact that, after giving birth to his daughter and fighting so hard for him, he didn't even dignify me with an in-person breakup or a reason?

All I had ever wanted was to be a part of a loving, caring family as a doting wife. And with that text, he took that away. What’s worse was that he was willing to fight for the relationship all those months just to make sure we were going to be OK, and then he just didn’t fight to keep me anymore when we had gotten better.

After these few years, I won’t lie and say I’m better. I’m not. I was robbed and blindsided of the happy wedding and family I had so desperately wanted all these years. And I was robbed by the father of my only child.

There are certain wounds that time won’t heal. This is one of them, and this is the one that convinced me that men aren’t capable of loving anyone but themselves.

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If he were to walk back into my life right now and ask for me back, I’d still say no. He never cared enough to keep me when my daughter and I needed him in my life. Why should we care enough to give him another chance to leave us?