I’ll admit something...

I’m usually the last one to move on after a breakup. At least relationships where I’d actually fallen for the person. I rarely fall but when I fall, I fall fast, I fall hard, and it’s hard for me to get back up after I fall.

For this reason...

I’m usually the one still reeling after the breakup, tending to my wounds and processing the breakup while I watch my ex update her profile picture with someone new.

"I’ve been in love four times in my life. I’ve also been heartbroken four times as well. Go figure, right?"

I’m good at not giving a shit. I can not give a shit with the best of them. But every time I’ve ever given a shit in a relationship, I’ve eaten shit. Metaphorically of course.

Interestingly, there is a pattern that has presented itself.

The first girl I was in love with broke it off with me because she met a guy who made it clear to her that her and I were not the right fit together.

The...