After All This Time, I’m Still Sorry I Hurt You
The biggest apology I’ve ever given to an ex
I should have known that joining Tinder was a bad idea from the start. I should have stayed single, reflected on myself, spent more time alone, navigated life, and taken it one day at a time. Instead, I joined a dating app to fill the emptiness I had inside after the man I wanted to be with had rejected me more than once.
Joining a dating app was easier because if we both swiped “right,” then we both liked what we saw. It was simpler to address that we both found each other attractive and get that out of the way.
As soon as we matched, we hit it off so well that we exchanged phone numbers a few days later. Four weeks later, we went on our first date, and the day after that, we were already in a relationship.
Everything happened so fast; I obviously knew that. But I don’t know if it was because I knew he liked me so much, the rush of meeting in person on the first date, and feeling like we’d been talking “forever,” that I thought, why not? I’ll get to know him while we’re together.
He wasn’t a bad guy, and he didn’t turn into one either. In fact, I was secretly hoping that it wouldn’t work out between us, and maybe we could have had more time to get to know each other apart rather than actually being together. That would have been less pressure.
But it turned out to be the complete opposite — he was head over heels for me, and I just wasn’t on his level, at least not yet.
Was he moving too fast, was I moving too slow?
I had just turned twenty-six, and I figured, maybe he’s the one. They say you should always be with the one who loves you more than you love them.
Such stupid advice.
I wanted so badly to fill a void from the previous person who hurt me, to find a way to finally forget about him, and I did. However, it wasn’t the right way. I knew that then, and I know that now.
“Hurt people hurt people,” and that’s what I did.
I lasted two years with him. They were great, but I wasn’t happy. I always felt like something was missing.
I thought I was going crazy because here I was with this great, loving, sweet man who loved me for me. He would give me the moon if I asked for it, and yet I was not fulfilled.
I was wrestling with self-doubt, questioning my feelings and desires. I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me because I wanted to love him the same way, but I just couldn’t. I felt like the worst human being alive.
I’m very close with my father, so I talked to him about it, but he didn’t understand where I was coming from. In fact, he was furious. I can only imagine him thinking, “My daughter, who should be married by now, can’t get her shit together when it comes to relationships.”
My small, close-knit group of people I talked to were confused; some were surprisingly understanding.
I wanted more security, stability, and maturity from his part. I didn’t get that with him, and I finally admitted that to myself and then to him.
Everything went by so fast.
This was my most significant apology yet to someone I never intended to hurt.
Breaking up with him was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. He knew something was off between us, but he didn’t see that coming either. He wanted to work it out, and I wanted to continue from where I left off as a single woman.
I apologized so many times, telling him how deeply sorry I felt, how heartbroken I was — for both of us. I accepted his hatred toward me. I deserved every bad name in the book he wanted to call me.
When I think of him to this day, I continue to apologize in my head, as if he can still hear me, hoping he’s happy and doing well, hoping he has everything I couldn’t give to him.
I deleted Tinder and never joined a dating app again.
