I think about my ex from six years ago more than my ex from six months ago

Is this just me or…

Six months ago, I got dumped by a sweet boy who moved to London.

We met on a dating app, fell in love exactly three months later, and had a grown-up relationship filled with tofu and open communication and routines we built together. He broke up with me out of the blue, and for about three days I wanted to hurl myself out of a window. For seven days I wanted to curl up and sob. And for thirteen, I wanted to watch Project Runway and disassociate. After that, I sorta just got over it. And if I’m being completely and totally honest, sometimes I forget that relationship happened.

Does that make me a bad person? For being deeply in love and then just…forgetting about it?

Six years ago, I had a quintessential summer love.

I was eighteen. He was my first time. We were counselors at a summer camp together, and I was so stuck on him that I missed his cute face even when he was sitting right next to me. After eight weeks of sneaking around and never saying how we felt, he went abroad and I started my freshman year at college. He still comes up in my dreams more than I’d like to admit. 

So, why is it that I think about my ex from six years ago more than my ex from six months ago? Like, am I okay?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the two types of breakups.

The first? It makes you want to enter a coma and wake up when the pain is gone. It makes you want to pop tylenol because your freshman year psych professor said it helps the hurt go away. It makes you want to unfollow all their accounts, delete your pictures together and never listen to the songs that remind you of them. In Type 1 Breakup, you dream of the day that they never cross your mind because that means it stopped hurting. 

The second type of breakup? It’s the kind you want to sit in forever. You go through old texts, listen to sad songs, and relish the ache in your heart because it reminds you of the love it’s filled with. You become a masochist for the pain. You look forward to plane rides or long drives or late nights when you can stare out the window or shut your eyes and relive every memory, trying to play them as frequently as possible over and over again so you never forget the little details. You’d rather be heartbroken for that person than nothing at all.

My recent breakup hurt. But it was Type 1. I was fine feeling nothing if it meant I could move on.

Six years ago, I had my first love. Maybe those are just different. I remember texting him and saying, “I know I’ll get over it eventually, but I just don’t want to get over you.” I wish I could go back in time and console 18-year-old Mia, and tell her that it’s okay, don’t worry, that kind of love stays with you forever. You may get over it, but you’ll never forget. You’ll never feel nothing.

So, I think we uncovered the mystery. My love for Tofu Boy may have been more recent and more adult and maybe even more real. But something inside me said to let go. 

Is it possible that you don’t know what type of love you had until it’s over? Until you see how tightly you hold on? 

I sure hope that’s not the case.