After my divorce, I found myself confronting my first significant heartbreak, which has left me questioning the prospect of love once more.

“It’s not my intention to hurt you,” he assured me, a statement that now feels deeply ironic in retrospect.

I often reflect on our conversations during the five weeks we spent together—our time was brief, yet impactful. The truth is, he did hurt me.

Late one night, we had one of the few genuine discussions that punctuated our time together, fully aware that our relationship was fleeting.

“We recognized its end before it began,” he remarked, and indeed, we did.

This awareness is precisely why we avoided deeper discussions.

Instead, I would refer to those moments as instances of weakness—when our emotions briefly overpowered us and we shared thoughts that felt too significant for the limited time we had. It was as if we had drawn invisible boundaries about what was acceptable to discuss.

I consciously chose not to pry into parts of his life; it felt intrusive to do so, especially knowing our time was limited.

Now, that might seem foolish.

I truly believed I was being respectful and realistic.

I don’t think he intended to hurt me, any more than I expected to feel pain. I think we both underestimated the chemistry that drew us together. Perhaps we both thought we were beyond emotional attachments for our own reasons.

In hindsight, we were a bit naive.

It sounds absurd to admit that at this stage in life, but it's the truth.

I was wholly unprepared for the possibility of heartbreak after my divorce. I didn’t think I could form a connection strong enough to hurt me.

But I did.

And now, I find myself thinking, “Why bother with love again?”

It hardly seems worthwhile.

I was content before a man occupied my mind. To clarify, I was happier before I stopped seeing a man who still lingers in my thoughts, even from across the country.

Ironically, he shared some poignant thoughts that night.

“I was up all night after you left. I never wanted to be the one to hurt you. You were better off before we met,” he said.

“No, I wasn’t. I’m happier knowing you,” I insisted.

“I think about the fact that you’re on the East Coast while I’m on the West Coast. You're not leaving, and I’m not either,” he added.

I’ll skip the more intimate details of our conversation.

That night remains vivid in my memory.

There were likely several reasons our talk felt more profound than usual. We had experienced a misunderstanding the previous evening, and as we approached the conclusion of our five weeks together, he had gone out with friends.

A few extra drinks seemed to loosen his tongue.

Whenever I express my frustration about not being able to forget my five-week relationship, my friend always asks the same question.

“Would you prefer to have never met him?” she inquires.

“No,” I reply.

“Then stop dwelling on him and cherish the wonderful moments you shared,” she advises. “I witnessed it nearly daily, and you both appeared genuinely happy. Treasure that.”

I know she’s correct.

However, I’m learning new lessons about love after my divorce.

Specifically, my heart had opened up enough to risk being broken again.

That’s a silver lining, I suppose. I strive to maintain a positive perspective. It’s encouraging that I’ve healed sufficiently to desire love again, and the protective barriers around my heart have diminished.

Experiencing a broken heart was simply unexpected.

Not long ago, I had no intention of dating.

I feel I could have sidestepped this situation, yet I didn’t genuinely want to avoid it. The feelings I had when I first met him were complicated; I was torn between wanting to be with him and wanting to resist.

I struggled with the idea of becoming involved with him.

I also grappled with the decision to let him go.

This emotional turmoil is a hallmark of the divorce experience.

It can leave you feeling lost and disoriented.

My friend is right; I must focus on the positives. I experienced heartbreak for the first time after my divorce, making me a “divorced virgin” in this regard. He was my first love post-divorce, and it mirrors that youthful infatuation.

That initial crush is unforgettable.

You can’t stop thinking about that person—the one who occupies your every thought. The feelings from that first love linger, sometimes indefinitely, and it’s often romanticized.

You tend to amplify that first experience of love.

It becomes larger than life.

Because it meant something significant to you.

In reality, he might not have been as remarkable as I remember.

But to me, he was everything.

Having resisted dating for so long, I never fully engaged with it until I finally gave in. I didn’t conduct the thorough research that a love and relationship columnist typically does on various topics.

This was never an area of interest for me.

However, the unexpected combination of Labor Day, a pool, a Bud Light, and a captivating guy led me to abandon my protective instincts. I have no regrets; I embrace it for what it was.

The first guy who captured my heart after divorce.

My first experience of heartbreak.

Someone had to break it; it might as well have been my five-week companion.