How Heartbreak Was the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me

It's true - having your heart smashed into a million pieces isn't something you would initially think of as something so positive. Don't get me wrong, I was shattered, I couldn't think I would ever come out of this eternal misery I found myself in. But now, seeing the person I have become, I do not regret it one single bit.

I feel it's important to share this oh-so-tragic affair (quite literally) to gain some form of insight. I don't deny it's controversial and in no way am I the innocent party, but that does not degrade my feeling of betrayal.

We're going to start at the beginning, and we're going to name the fellow of my tale John.

Now, my seventeen-year-old-self had just started my job at Domino's. Nervous, naive, just as anyone is so young and at a new job. A week later, John, a driver, had come into the fray and frequently was around the kitchen when it wasn't busy.

He wasn't the typical kind of attractive - his body a little too lanky, his eyes a little too wide, his black hair a little too thin - but I found myself massively drawn to him.

After a couple of shifts together we started flirting. Even still, I remember it all so distinctly. I would take my hat off and flip my hair about like in those ridiculous shampoo adverts to try and grab his attention. I bet I could beat him in an arm wrestle just so I could touch him. One time I was speaking to him and he just interrupted me to say I had pretty eyes. The small things always make the biggest impact.

After weeks of constantly speaking, things progressed a bit further, his (false) intentions became more clear. He would start asking to finish work at the same time I did so he could give me a lift home, he would send me shirtless pictures of him in the shower. I got stranded in Brighton one evening due to trains being canceled, having no money for the bus, and he offered to leave work and pick me up. That was the moment I really started getting emotionally attached.

One day, I realised that we weren't friends on Facebook, so decided to look him up. What I came across was a bit of a shock.

He was married.

His profile picture, a stunning portrait of him in his formal army attire kissing his beautiful bride in white.

I didn't know what to think. Confusion, anger, disappointment.

Thankfully, I was going up to Norwich to look at a university for the weekend, so that would let me have some time away from him. We still spoke, but I had made sure to reduce it by a drastic amount. On an off-chance, I also told him I wasn't sure if I wanted anything to go further between us, if that was ever an option for him. He said that was fine, and I thought that was that.

I woke up in the morning to texts from him saying "you're a pretty girl, aren't you", and "I miss you" sent at two in the morning. I decided I needed to confront him saying I knew he was married as, before this point, he hadn't even mentioned anything to do with that predicament.

It got to the point when eating breakfast with my mum that I mentioned to John that I can flirt with whoever I like, whereas he can't. As suspected he questioned why he can't. I told him matter-of-factly that he's married. He's been caught, there's no point lying now, I thought.

He came out with he's getting a divorce. Oh... How convenient. And how I wish I didn't believe him. As could be expected, my mum didn't trust him and had previously warned me he was bound to say he was getting a divorce. That notorious motherly instinct.

But I'm nearly an adult, I know everything there's possible to know about anything, he loves me. Blah, blah, blah...

So, reassured that I'm not knowingly encouraging unfaithful behavior, I put my guard down.

John and I would frequently go on drives after work. I would speak to him about my troubled relationship with my alcoholic father, and we found we had a lot in common around that topic. We discussed our favourite films, our joint-adoration of Tom Hardy - we spoke about everything.

The mess really started when I said I was going to the beach one night, and he kind of invited himself along. Rather than go sit on the beach, he pulled up on the side road and lit a cigarette. After a bit of chatting, he mentioned that he had a crush on someone at work. "Crush"... Such a childish word for a twenty-four-year-old. I played ignorant, wondering who on Earth it was.

Of course, I wasn't very surprised to hear it was me.

Before I knew it, he was forcing my hand onto his hard crotch. I have never felt so uncomfortable and subjugated in my life. Then the next moment his hands were up my shirt, cupping my breasts with his grin beside my neck. Although I told myself, and John, that I liked it, I felt I was pushed against my will to do something I didn't want to do. In hindsight, I feel I lied because I didn't want to jeopardize this emotional connection I had with him by saying no, as I lacked that closeness with the male, supposedly-protective figure in my life, my father.

Of course, I would go home feeling just fine. I would go to work feeling just fine. But one shift that got shirked. The phone rang, I picked it up as usual.

"Domino's Pizza, Georgina speaking, how may I help"

"May I speak to John please?"

"Of course, may I take a name?"

"It's his wife."

What? His wife? The wife he's divorcing?

So off I go, calm as ever, telling him his wife's on the phone. For hours and hours, I would be completely consumed in my own thoughts, swirling in an uncontrollable abyss of guilt and self-loathing. I was beyond the point of just treating this as a bit of flirting or a fling. I was beginning to fall in love with this spoken-for man.

When I was let off, I knew I'd be going straight to my favourite place, my thinking place - the beach. I left without a word to anyone but my manager, whereas usually I'd make sure to say goodbye to everyone. Before I even managed to get to the beach, I looked at my phone to see three missed calls and a handful of messages from John, saying "Where'd you go?" and "Please pick up," "Where are you?" And as ridiculous as it may seem, it kind of hurt my heart a little.

I decided to ignore him. Treasure this time to myself. I've always enjoyed and been content with my own company, and I needed it now more than ever. But, much to my surprise, five minutes later another vibration from my phone brought me out of my thoughts. "I'm at our usual spot."

Fast-forward a couple of days, it's the night of my eighteenth birthday. I had a nice, quiet evening dinner with my friends, of which I still feel guilty constantly thinking about John the whole time throughout. I was lying in bed, talking dirtily with him for the first time. He would say he wanted to fuck me, and so many other explicit things.

Two days later, I was in his car, in our usual spot by the beach, giving him head.

A week later, I was in his car, in a dark car park, having sex.

The latter unfolded in a manner, again, I wasn't entirely comfortable with. It was Halloween, I had only agreed to work because I knew I would be able to see him. It gets to the point in his car, I'm completely naked laid on the back seat. I ask him if he has protection - he replies no.

I was frustrated. I wanted to have sex, but I didn't want it without protection.

I tightened my legs close and threw my arm over my eyes. Next, I felt his hands separate my thighs and heard him say "What if I did this?"

I'm sure you can guess the rest.

The next day, I came back down to reality. At the time, that I had slept with a married man didn't even cross my mind, but fears of being pregnant or getting an STI was all that plagued my mind. To the doctors I went, shaking from how much I've potentially ruined my life. So I got some emergency contraception and went on the pill. The following weekend, we slept together again but this time I made sure to always be carrying a condom with me, just in case.

All week, following that night, he was crazy distant. He would barely speak to me at work, I would message him saying I missed him and I'd get a single word reply days later.

When he dropped me home the next weekend after closing, I questioned him why he had been ignoring me. Of course, my mum's suspicions had been well-founded.

"I'm back with my wife to try and sort things out."

I felt my heart inflame, but I tried to remain calm, saying I wish he had just told me. The final sign I knew our time was over was that he would usually kiss me before I left the car. He did no such thing this time.

Days went by where I would expect to see him at work, but he wasn't there. Was he avoiding me? Maybe he was just sick? I found out from another co-worker he had gone to work at the newly opened store in the next town over and had been planning to for months.

That is where my heartbreak really started to set in. I was furious. I put on my Snapchat "Couldn't be more angry with a certain person" and put a tiara for his nickname I had dubbed him with - Princess.

I woke up to see him saying our area manager asked him to work there and he agreed, the following message I sent saying he wasn't ever going to tell me. He threw back saying I had said nothing more so that's what he kept to, so stop saying that shit. All ready for college in tears.

It wasn't a good experience. I felt like I had been ripped in two, deprived of something, deep-down, I knew was never mine.

The signs were all there, I know, but I was a young girl in love with someone I thought loved me. But now I question, was this man truly in love with me, or was he so desperate to use me that he went so far with his actions? I try and convince myself no person could do such caring actions on false pretenses, or is that really wishing too hard?

I know I'm a coward by hiding behind a screen admitting my wrongs, but to his wife, if you ever find yourself reading this, I'm so sorry I was an instrument in the destruction of your marriage. There is no way my pain could ever be justified against yours. But know that you and I both deserved much better than that man.

Despite the constant misery, despite thinking what was the point of getting out of bed, and despite watching the train approach and wondering how much it'll hurt and creeping that little bit closer... I've come out of that darkness a better person. I needed that darkness so I could appreciate the light so much more.

Before, I would always cower behind others' opinions without sharing my own, I wouldn't disagree with anyone, I wouldn't ever be openly upset with someone. I worried too much about what everyone around me thought of me and that I would never be perfect.

Now I won't hesitate to voice what I think, to point out when I believe someone is in the wrong. I will actually air my disappointment or anger rather than pent it up until one evening I cry hysterically into my pillow. I look at my body, my face, my hair... And although I do on days wish my belly was less bloated, I had bigger boobs, less thick hair - I love myself. I look in the mirror and see me. Someone who loves and cares with their whole being, someone who always tries their hardest and someone, who I know, is loved.

By no shape or form would I actually recommend encouraging heartbreak - it took a lot of dark days, effort and self-help - but heartbreak doesn't always mean it's sadness from here on out. It's so so important during that time that you focus on anything other than him/her, the fact your heart is aching, or your negative points. Yes, shock horror, we all do have bad things about us. I'm stubborn and way too sensitive for anyone's good, I have ridiculously unfair mood swings (even when I don't have a period to blame) and can be very accusative. But realise the so many good points about yourself, like I have done in the previous paragraph.

It's okay to love yourself.

And it's a strange thought, but I'm proud that I learned to love myself from my heart being broken.