... but I found it appropriate for my first post here.
My worst break up was six weeks ago. We lived together for two years, talked about marriage, kids, etc. He went on tour, and I flew up to see him in the Northeast shortly before Valentine's Day. As usual, we had a wonderful, steamy time together. Lots of "I love you's" and "I can hardly wait to be home's." The day after Valentine's Day, he sent me an email telling me that it was over, I needed to move out by the time he got home, and that I should take our cat and my concert grand. This gave me roughly two weeks to come up with the cash to hire movers. I was confused, but did as he said because he was adamant about it. When he got back, he wouldn't see me or even talk to me on the phone; emails went unreturned or I received terse replies that explained nothing. Finally, this Sunday, I talked to him on the phone, and he finally confessed that he met "someone" when he was in Seattle and that they were starting a long-distance relationship. He's seen her once.
Of course, I got a bunch of revisionist history of how he was never really in love with me, we had no "intimacy," things were bad for a long time, he was lonely, blah, blah. Which was contrary to everything he was telling me during the course of the relationship. So needless to say, I was gobsmacked.
