Have you ever watched haplessly, helplessly and hopelessly as your dream crumbles into a million pieces? Do you remember the terror that filled your heart as you accidentally broke your mama’s expensive vase? You experienced the depth of her vocabulary, of all profane words. Like a possessed woman, she would go into a rift of rage that would cause you to doubt her love for you because of her special vase. Imagine those shattered glasses of vase splattered all over the floor … that’s how dreams get broken into pieces. 

Like a valuable vase, my heart too has been broken. I would watch and listen in horror as my dream was shredded. I remember this particular Thursday evening in January. I was sitting with a friend at a restaurant in Fourways when my phone, which was on silent, vibrated to reveal a familiar face. It was her, the queen of my heart. I had been waiting for her call. 

“Hey Babe,” I answered. 

“Hi, how are you?” 

“I am well and wena?”

“I am well. Are you able to talk?” 

“Yeah sure,” I said, making my way out of the restaurant, already slightly worried by the need to talk.  

“I thought we would talk face to face, but it’s okay,” she said immediately after I told her I’m now comfortable. “The thing is I wish to no longer continue with this relationship.” 

That was it. I was getting dumped. It was the end of an era for me. The woman who brought so much happiness to my life was now withdrawing her services. I was shattered, though I was not entirely shocked by the abrupt ending of things. Let me explain: I had been expecting to be dumped. She had been preparing me for it. For the previous five days, she was neither responding to my texts nor taking calls. 

My response was more of an interrogation.

“Are you sure about this? Have you thoroughly weighed all options and arrived at this decision? Is your heart content with this?” I asked. 

She replied with a resounding YES to all questions. Though my heart was pierced, there was nothing to do. All I did was deliver a short politically correct speech to avoid embarrassing myself. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel, it is well with my soul. I would like to thank you for the opportunity you afforded me to be in a relationship with you. I have no regrets whatsoever, as they relate to the programme of our love. I would like to wish you the best with your future endeavours.”

It was, in the words of Langston Hughes, a dream deferred. During the phone call, I excused myself from the table where my friend and I sat. He is a progressive business coach. He was coaching me and enlightening me about the levels I could hit if I continue pushing my craft. Before the fateful call, I was in high spirits, but I went back to the restaurant crestfallen. The call dashed my hopes. I had thought she would be my last girlfriend. I wanted this to be my last relationship. I left the table as someone’s boyfriend but returned as a dumped man. My friend tried hard to motivate me and prophesy a great future for me, but my mind was elsewhere. 

One of the bulbs that illuminated my life had died. It was a dark city in my heart. The breakup led to a lot of questions. One of the prominent questions was: “What determines the severity of a heartbreak? Is it the duration or intention?” 

We had been dating for just three months but the depth of the hurt was deep. There’s this notion that a short-lived romance shouldn’t hurt much. Who should feel pain the most: someone getting dumped after three months or someone getting dumped after five years? Most would say it’s the one who spent five years in a relationship because they invested a lot.

The brutality of heartbreak is fuelled by regret, intent, disappointment, attachment, investment, involvement, embarrassment and resentment. People deal with heartbreaks differently. When someone is crying over the termination of a love relationship, we often have opinions as to how long it’s supposed to take them to heal from disappointment. We sympathise publicly and mock privately as people deal with pain. When I got dumped, I felt what many have felt. I even went to two of my friends, who had experienced tough times dealing with breakups. I went to ask for their forgiveness for trivialising their hurt. I felt like taking back every laugh I ever let out laughing at people whose hearts were broken.