Lovesickness in men: “The same pain as when I was 16”
It didn’t work out with her. So it had to go without her. Author Gerhard Kummer left his dream woman – and became half crazy
Of course, I’ve already broken up – but the last one was the toughest. It wasn’t even a classic relationship. Lisa was bound and I was her lover. At first, I blocked their advances, but then one day I had a crush as if lightning had struck. That began a breathtaking affair – and so did the trouble. This burning longing that cost me whole nights. That damn pressure to stay cool when she just left after our prime. Then our trip to Asia. For her, it was a marriage vacation. I saw it as a last chance. Three weeks, it went well, but on the return flight, I knew that I would never win her over. She drove back to her husband from the airport. I came back to my apartment and faced the abyss. After almost a year in the illusion Having found the dream woman, I had to wake up now. Let go. Save my skin. And urgently, otherwise, I would go to the dogs. The problem was, I still wanted her. The very thought of losing her was driving me crazy.
I missed it terribly, but I used my insomnia to keep hammering myself into getting out of this trap. I heard her voice half asleep. She whispered that she could feel how I was doing. No, you have no idea, I thought. It got really bad the next morning. You know that. For a split second, you wake up normally – then the shock. As if the nerves that are only responsible for missing something suddenly hang on the power grid. Over the next few minutes, I made the mistake of imagining how she was waking up next to him. That gave me the rest. With the first coffee I was convinced that I would perish on this woman – and until then, to roam cold streets like a ghost. That is the perfidious thing about acute love pain: You think it will never pass. You don’t just feel alone or hurt – the thing is overshot. As if it were wired to an ancient wound. Nevertheless, I went to my daily training. I started doing pushups, but the second time I was lying flat on the kitchen floor. Then I cried.
It is said that crying is liberating but there are kinds of tears that run down the soul like hydrochloric acid. In a determined email, I asked her never to call me again. Secretly, I was hoping for a miracle of feedback: “Can’t do without you, come today, forever!” Instead, she wrote why she stayed with him – and couldn’t forget me. That was it, the paradox of her relationship with me, it didn’t make my exit any easier. I broke in completely and just dragged myself from day today. A freelancer with wet eyes and an alien in his stomach who ate him from the inside with sharp teeth. I soon only brought down sandwiches myself. I wanted to show stamina, be a mature 40-plus guy, but in truth, I had the same symptoms as when I was 16 when my first love left: endless sadness and a feeling of endless defeat. As if I didn’t understand anything. And worst of all, there are no antidotes – except time and friends.