When Your First Relationship Ends On Good Terms

Note: I am a licensed therapist.

Disclaimer: All names have been changed to aliases to ensure confidentiality and to respect the privacy of those mentioned. Aliases are used consistently for continuity throughout my posts.

Imagine this—after numerous first and second dates, you finally land something consistent. They’re the best you’ve ever met. They’re handsomely breathtaking, kind, and openly share about themselves to you. You lose count on the number of dates. You take a seven hour train ride together to meet their family. Listened to the entirety Tash Sultana’s “Flow State” on edibles and cuddled on the couch. And despite all of this, something feels wrong. Wrong enough to feel that even “perfect” isn’t always the right fit.

How The Relationship Ended (Literally)

“I hate New York,” he’d say.

My relationship with Apollo ended on good terms. It happened on Dec 17th, 2022. On the day before it happened, we were flying back from a five day trip in Costa Rica.

On this trip, I planned to finally tell him I loved him for the first time.

Around the 2nd day there, Apollo shared with me while stretching his always-tight hamstrings that he has finalized his decision to leave New York City permanently and begin a new life in Colombia. I watched him as he spoke.

His hamstrings are always so tight and stiff. I’m surprised he doesn’t pull anything whenever we’re training together. But I guess that’s the price he pays for being such a seasoned cyclist.

I remember the way he described his time there (he was in Colombia for a week just before we flew to Costa Rica), as well as all his plans regarding how he’d gather his belongings in Pelican containers and ship them off to Colombia.

He always loved having such durable containers for things. Meticulous—that was my Apollo.

I remember him sharing all of these thoughts and details, and at the same time, thinking to myself how I would willingly uproot my life, leave for Colombia, and stay with him to continue our relationship. After all, Colombia functions in the same time zone as New York, and I worked remotely. But there was a part of me that remembered to be assertive. So I asked where I fit in all of his plans.

“It would be cool if you came too,” he said.

Cool?

I didn’t think the man I was going to confess my love to would think it was cool that I came with him. My fears and insecurities, planted when we first met, but never watered—had finally begun to blossom at breakneck speed.

I saw the end of us unfolding before my eyes.

How I Thought A “Good Breakup” Would Be

I thought that I’d move on gracefully. That I’d understand that this life together was not meant for us, and that we were incompatible. That I would’ve understood it was the right thing to do. After all, there was so much I wanted from him during the relationship that I was too nervous to ask for more than once. I wanted his kisses to feel like he meant them. I wanted to hold hands. I wanted him to touch me more often. I wanted to at least text once or twice a day.

I even wrote poetry about it.

I was scared that if I asked someone for these things, they’d leave me because I was asking for too much. And he was tired—often, from traumas that are outside the scope of this post.

But we had so many incompatibilities, and because of those incompatibilities, I figured moving on would have been easy.

What Actually Happened Instead

It absolutely fucked me up. I didn’t know what it felt like to cry for days straight after we broke up over the phone. To move through my day knowing that his texts may never show up again. To know that every time I’d open up my photo album and scroll through it, his face would pop up at some point. To cry over it even months from now.

Hell, I almost wished at times that the relationship ended in a fight so that it would be easier to just hate him away.

But ending things on good terms makes it much, much harder to cope with the grief that comes with the loss.

Plus, when things end badly, you can frequently default to the negative emotions like anger, hate, or resentment. But I felt none of those. I just felt shortchanged. Apollo, for a first relationship, had given me everything I had ever wanted on the surface—an incredibly attractive partner that had overcome painful hardships, and exuded a maverick-y attitude with a mixture of kindness.

And for me to have that be my first relationship, it was like a teenage dream come true.

And then to lose it? Painful.

And for it to end on good terms? Agony.

The Hope That Lingers

After about a month and a half after the breakup, I moved into Apollo’s apartment. He was giving it up to me as a parting gift. The rent was incredibly cheaper, and living in NYC ain’t easy.

I’m going to live in my ex’s apartment? Without him? How am I supposed to cope, move past, and create new memories in earnest if I’m resting and waking in a place like this?

In the first three months after the breakup, I had passing thoughts of wondering if we’d ever get back together. I hoped maybe our relationship would improve and that I’d get those little additional things I wanted to make me feel wanted. That he might change his mind about Colombia and stay, or that some circumstance would play out causing him to be anchored here with me. I didn’t want him selfishly—I was absolutely hellbent on making sure that if something kept him from being in Colombia, we’d find a way to live there together, or that he could live out a similar dream here in the States.

But in that same vein, I knew not to ask if we could get back together. And I refuse to “date backwards.” I’m not sure where or why I abide by this rule I’ve given myself (considering I’m only mildly seasoned in relationships now), but if I break up or break things off with someone, I already thought it through completely, and am certain of my decisions. Getting back with them after all that thought is what I call “dating backwards.”

To this day, I still abide by this rule.

As time went on, I learned to reflect on that relationship and what I was not getting. And since I had asked for these things and didn’t get them (or at least didn’t consistently get them), it was best that I kept my distance. I learned to accept that the relationship was good, but not great. This healthy recognition has helped me to achieve a kind-from-a-distance attitude.

Being Kind—From Afar

I hope Apollo is okay. I don’t check on him. I even thought to text him on his birthday this past year just to reach out and be kind, but I chose not to. I remember him to be a somewhat forgetful sort, and I personally believed he would not have remembered my birthday. I know that sounds spiteful, but I say this because I see it as a fact of Apollo. I’ve seen other examples of this during our time together. I chose to work with his forgetfulness.

The Grief That Lingers (And What To Do With It)

Even if it ended on good terms, don’t check on them. Mute, don’t block. You need to grieve.

As I said earlier, I wished that the breakup ended on bad terms so that I could just hate him away. But I feel none of that. In fact, all I feel are positive emotions.

However, for me, those positive emotions can easily be conflated with thinking it’s okay to check on them. It isn’t. By checking on Apollo, I was able to see the life he was living without me. It’s not that I didn’t want to see him move on, but I didn’t want to see him. Seeing him would trigger a flood of thoughts about how amazing it was to be with him—which subsequently reminds me it’s gone for good. Checking on him is the equivalent of trying to hit a new personal record in your lifts, then throwing on an extra 100lbs in the middle of the lift. Not only does checking on Apollo cause me serious emotional and mental pain, it also unnecessarily invites grief.

Besides, that feeling will come as it pleases anyway, so there’s no need to invite it home.

Grief is the emotion we feel when we lose something. It’s commonly felt when someone dies, but in this case, I’m grieving the death of our relationship. However, since we ended on good terms, we still remain connected—just not speaking to each other. We still follow each other on social media, but I have his posts, stories, and notes muted. This helps me to safely use social media and affirm that I don’t want him out of my life, but that I need the space to process the loss.

Having space away from my ex allows me to return home to who I was before the relationship. I remind myself often that I existed well before I met Apollo, and I will continue to exist well after him. And while a new self may have developed while I was in a relationship with Apollo, it is important for me to salvage the good parts of myself I developed during the relationship, and coalesce them in the me that exists after it.

Recall Your Self-Worth

I found it necessary to take stock of how the relationship was, and how it had an impact on me. I take it into account in four ways: how did it change me, what was missing, and silver linings.

How It Changed Me

Because it was my first relationship, there are a few things that affected me significantly. Below are the things I asked and reminded myself on a near-daily basis, about 48 hours after the breakup:

• This relationship flipped my world right-side up. It showed me that I was worthy of love. (This is permanent.)
• It showed me that I have needs that are worthy of addressing, and needs that must be addressed. With every person I meet, my needs are likely to change or are likely to be emphasized. (This is permanent.)
• The self-deprecating thoughts came to a screeching halt when I was with him, and they continue to be pretty non-existent afterward. If they do crop up, I stamp them out with realism and positivity. (This is new and can be permanent, but will take work.)
• I learned to be the chooser—not the person waiting and hoping to be chosen. I don’t go preening my feathers in hopes that someone will select me. I do what I can to be my best self and improve from there, but I will not make myself seem bigger than what I already am. (This is permanent.)
• I began to feel confident in my own skin. I believed that, “damn, if I can be with him, I could be with someone who’s this attractive and preferably more compatible with me.” (This is permanent).

What Was Missing

During the relationship, it took me a few months to realize things were missing. I remind myself of these missing elements often to solidify that going back to the relationship is not a good idea. Because I’ve *tried* to get it, and sometimes you can’t teach someone how to do what you need. For me, the following things were necessary:

• I needed more frequent communication. In the first three dates we texted daily with full-length conversations. I was so smitten by the depth and thought that we both put into our messages. But after those three dates, the texting started to slow down significantly. In hindsight, this is normal, but when I was in it, it was disappointing. Texts became sporadic, to a point where texts would be once every three days, or even once a week.
• I needed more physical touch. I didn’t consider myself a touch-deprived person, but I learned how much I enjoy and feel so alive when I receive physical touch (from the right person ***and*** with consent).
• I needed more sex. Plain and simple.
• I wanted to be asked more questions. It’s hard to feel like you’re in a relationship when you don’t feel invited.
• I wanted to feel more emotional intimacy. I remember a time when we had been seeing each other for about three months and, as I was lying in his lap on the couch, I remember asking him,

“What is it that you like about me?”

I remember looking up at him before he responded. Studying the shape of his face. His hand was resting on my chest, and I remember waffling my hand with his like a prayer. I’ve never been so smitten in my life. My hands may never reach god, but his hands were the next best thing worth holding.

“You’re chill and down for anything," he said.

Not my favorite response.

Silver Linings: Why It’s Good Not To Get What You Want

While strange, I realized what was missing in my relationship also resulted in some unexpected benefits. I’ll use the aforementioned as examples.

• “I needed more frequent communication.” - It would have been nice to talk to Apollo at least once a day. But the lack of frequent communication made me more comfortable with not receiving texts that often. I didn’t enjoy the sudden drop in frequency at first, but this reduced communication left me to my own devices often. Meaning I was able to focus on what I wanted to do, uninterrupted. These days I’m quite comfortable with not receiving texts daily from a romantic interest, even if I prefer it.
• “I needed more physical touch.” - It’s hard to glean a positive from a lack of physical touch, but what I confidently know now is I do value physical touch—and a lot of it.

• “I needed more sex.”- Like the previous point, it’s not easy to find a positive here. However, sex, as I’ve come to realize, is one of the ways I prefer to bond and show my affection for my partner. Without it, I felt like I couldn’t fully express the depths of how I felt towards Apollo when we were together.
• “I wanted to be asked more questions.” - I work in a field that asks questions for a living. Only up until halfway through my relationship did I realize that I like to be asked questions about myself, because I interpret this as someone taking interest in my life and my well-being. Maybe my interpretation stems from my work—but honestly, how else can I demonstrate to people I’m dedicated to their well-being if I don’t ask how they’re doing?
• “I wanted to feel more emotional intimacy.” - While I wasn’t able to receive this from Apollo often, plus feeling limited limited by the lack of sex, I learned how to create intimacy in other ways. I grew confident in my ability to create emotional intimacy. Eye contact. Active listening. Affirming needs. Smiling. Anticipating wants. Stealing glances. Compliments. Kisses. Squeezing their hand. Making them food. Time alone. Silence.

Final Thoughts

As much as I was heavily destabilized from my last relationship ending on good terms, I believe that I’ve come out the other end so much better than before. Grief is an elusive bandit that breaks into your mind at random and will rattle you to your core. Trying to capture and kill grief is futile. I’ve learned it’s better to let grief in and do its thing. Don’t call its name. Just leave the door open. Tears may follow—hell, I cried for a *week* after Apollo and I broke up, and at least twice a month for the first half of 2023.

I take the time to reflect and realize new things about myself—what is more important, what is less important, what is newly important, and what is no longer important.

Rinse, repeat.