Ask Cassandra

Ask Cassandra

Dear Cassandra,

Ten years ago today the love of my life left me for someone else. On our wedding day. It wasn’t actually at the altar, but six hours afterwards, at the reception.

It’s not an exaggeration to say I was destroyed. In the immediate aftermath, I made some stupid decisions that could have had terrible results (they didn’t, but I know I was just lucky).

I know she made the best choice for herself, and I truly don’t begrudge her happiness. If she didn’t want to be married to me, then leaving was the right choice. But I just don’t know how to get over her. She was the kindest person I’ve ever met, with a fantastic dry sense of humor, and she really understood what it’s like to grow up in a family of strong personalities when you’re the conflict-avoidant one.

Recently, I’ve tried to get back out there and date other women and I think it’s important to be honest about what happened, so that potential partners know where I’m coming from. But every time I tell my dates about the One Who Left, they stop being interested.

Any advice?

Left Behind.

Dear Left Behind,

First, I hope you had (and maybe continue to get) professional help to manage your feelings about what sounds like a truly traumatic event. My entire insides curdled when I read that “the kindest person” you’ve ever met left you for someone else six hours after she married you. You’re right that if someone wants out of a relationship, they should leave, but the timing on this particular leave-taking was spectacularly cruel. I don’t care how conflict-avoidant she is—there were dozens of much kinder ways for her to handle that situation, and she should have chosen one of them!

Second, and I say this with all the sympathy in the world, stop telling other women about her.

The truth is, the One Who Left story is ten years old. It is off the bestseller charts, it is being removed from the library collections, it is no longer accepted for trade at secondhand bookstores, and you do not need to bring it out for review on dates. (I am really hoping not first dates. No, right? Right?)

I don’t want to discount the strength and longevity of your feelings—you are clearly someone who loves hard and well. But please put some serious consideration into the idea that this woman is not the love of your life, but a love of your life. As long as you keep telling yourself and other people this story about the woman you don’t know how to get over, you are not leaving any space for a different story, the one where you fall in love with someone fabulous who loves you back just as hard.

This column is firmly in favor of honesty, but that doesn’t have to be complete honesty. I don’t tell my dates I have a side-gig as an advice columnist. If I ever meet someone I’m serious about, I will of course tell all, but until then, not every twenty-minute coffee or casual movie hang needs to come with a side of my life story.

Don’t tell your dates yours. See how that goes. And if you feel up to it, write back to tell us how it works out—I know that the readers are rooting for you just as much as I am.

Yours,

Cassandra.