Unhappily Never After A Memoir of Heartbreak Leading to Fourteen Years of Celibacy and Self-Triumph by Kasandra Williams - Read Online
Unhappily Never After A Memoir of Heartbreak Leading to Fourteen Years of Celibacy and Self-Triumph
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Summary

You think you know my story, but you do not. It starts out as your typical love story. However, things change in a blink of an eye. That relationship, along with life itself, has knocked me down. I was shown things that I never wanted to see - not only about him, but about me as well. I experienced sadness, disappointment and failures but, I did not allow myself to remain down. Find out why I fell and how I got back up.

I met my college sweetheart, Brandon Thompson, and fell madly in love despite the warnings of family members and a few friends. He was my first and only love and after eight years of dating, several significant happenings caused us to end our relationship.
After our break-up, my self-esteem plummeted. Instead of moving on with my life, the break-up debilitated me to the point where I mentally shut down and became a quasi-recluse. I did not date at all for fourteen years. During these fourteen years, I had to figure out why I reacted in such a way and slowly work my way back to the confident woman I was before meeting Brandon Thompson.

Published: Kasandra Williams on
ISBN: 9781310482960
List price: $3.99
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Unhappily Never After A Memoir of Heartbreak Leading to Fourteen Years of Celibacy and Self-Triumph - Kasandra Williams

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Anonymous

PREFACE

Rapidly approaching my forty-fourth birthday, I began to contemplate as I always do what is amiss with my life this year. Like the years prior, I am faced with the same dilemma. Why haven't I been on a date in fourteen years? What is wrong with me? Why can't I move past my hurt? Rather than throwing a pity party, I decided to write down my feelings in the form of a memoir.

I was at an Alabama airport awhile back and I ran into an old friend from college. He looked me up and down and said, I don't see a ring. Are you divorced? Don't you have a little girl? I dropped my head and quietly whispered as I have at least a thousand times, No, I am not divorced. I have never been married, I do not have children, and the little girl that you saw me with is my niece. If I had a dollar for every time I have been asked about my marital status, I would be rich. What's worse is that after I answer the question - the reactions that follow are priceless! The looks that I receive and the puzzling apologies floor me. My go to answer is always I guess that it just wasn't in the cards for me.

Yet, if some of those people only knew that I have not been on a date since my college boyfriend of eight years and I broke up fourteen years ago. What would they think of me? I shudder to think what he would feel about this. After all of this time passed, I still do not know what to think of myself. I am very embarrassed that I haven't become someone's wife and mother - or at the very least, moved on.

I have always been stigmatized regarding marriage. Around twelve years of age, I went to visit my maternal great-grandmother Ann. This became a weekly routine after the passing of my great-grandfather. We were very close. She was confined to a wheelchair and I remember watching the Richard Simmons show and doing exercises together (I am aging myself-oh, but it's okay because I have already done so in the very first sentence). She would raise her arms up and down while I would dance and mimic what I was seeing on the screen. One day after watching the show, my great-grandmother asked me if I was married yet. I replied, grandma, I am only twelve years old. My great- grandmother said to my mother who was also in the room, Lord, Lee (my mom) the child is a spinster! On the way home I asked my mom what was a spinster. My mother explained that a spinster is a woman who should be married but isn't. But she was quick to explain that because my great-grandmother was ninety-eight, she came from an era when girls had to get married young and for me not to worry about that. I told my mother that I never want to be a spinster. Fast forward to the present - Lo and behold, I am a spinster! I am sure that my great-grandma Ann is spinning a tornado in her grave because I am not married at forty-four years old (I am actually laughing out loud as I am typing this). This event played a major role in my psyche about getting married. It did not manifest itself until I was a grown woman, yet, it would unquestionably shape how I handled myself in relationships.

Let me just say that although I have called this book a memoir, it is about a break up that involved two parties. There are always three sides to a story: my side, his side, and somewhere in the middle is the truth. How I recall the past is my truth; however, it may not be how the other person remembers it. So to keep from being sued, I will place this disclaimer: the following pages represent my memories and not the memories of the others involved. Therefore I will change some names to protect the innocent - me . Even further, I am not one who speaks and lives through illustrations. I am definitely no Shakespeare so I am telling my story in such a way that is as honest and heartfelt as I can.

Some little girls dream of meeting and marrying her prince charming and living happily ever after just like they read in the fairy-tales. While others dream about having the husband, the two point five kids and the house with the white picket fence. Not unlike these girls, I used to daydream about meeting and marrying someone tall, dark and handsome, moving into a big beautiful home without a picket fence and one child was enough for me. Specifically, I grew up hoping and wishing that I would meet my college sweetheart, date him for at least ten years and marry shortly after we become established in our professions. My parents did it. My younger sister and only sibling did it. Some friends and family members did it - twice. So, I should be able to do it too....right?

In eighth grade, I took the liberty of writing down all of my wedding plans (the dress, the colors, the flowers, the table settings, the songs, and the food) and had them laminated. All I had to do is just insert the name of the groom to be. I laugh quietly to myself sometimes because my wedding plans have not changed. I still long for everything that I wrote in the eighth grade. What's more hilarious is that on April 27, 2011, my laminated wedding plans were blown away in a tornado. Is this the universe's way of telling me to get over it?

It is not just that I am single with no kids, the fact of the matter is that I have not been on a date since the millennium- no really, since the year 2000! According to the fairy-tales, the girl finds her prince, marries him and lives happily ever after. Comparing, I guess that would make me unhappily never after. My dreams almost came true. I met my college sweetheart. We dated for eight years and were working towards something permanent, but along the way things went awry and we broke up. Everyone has been in a bad break up at one time or another. What is the big deal? Normal people break up and move on right?

However, the way that I reacted to the ending of my eight year relationship has led me to believe that I am not normal. The break-up for me was so devastating that I did not know how to move forward. It was like I had become trapped in time just like that movie, Groundhog Day. I just could not stop reliving the past. I dreamed about it every night for at least five years. Lost in my memories of what happened, I have been too petrified to get involved with someone else. To be one hundred percent honest, I do not know how or where to begin. Unfortunately for me, I am still on a mission to move away from the past and continue forward with my life. Maybe if I relive the past once and for all, I can move on and perhaps help not only myself, but those who are stuck like me. I couldn't possibly be the only one like this .... can I?

1.

From The Beginning

Turning onto the road of my college campus, it did not seem as enormous as it had been three years earlier when my parents dropped me off for the first time. Founded in 1867, my school was enriched in so much history and tradition. I was feeling such as sense of pride and nostalgia because in three days I would be entering my senior year in college. This would be my last time driving along this strip as a student preparing to start the fall semester. As I was going past the forty- plus buildings housed on at least fifty acres of land, I took the time to drink it all in. Looking to my right, our student union was crowded as usual because it enclosed a gym, a book store, the mail room, as well as a long wall for us to sit and hang out. People were already lined against the wall most likely discussing which classes they were taking, who their professors were, and what parties they were looking forward to attending. And to my left, the freshmen and their parents were unloading trunks, boxes, and televisions from their parent's cars. Upper class boys were flexing and throwing balls around in front of the freshman girls' dorms - scoping out the new meat. New meat was a term that college students used to define potential freshman girlfriends for upper class male students. Sorority and fraternity members decked out in colorful Greek paraphernalia were congregated together in front of the cafeteria located in the center of the university grounds for the entire student body to see. The jocks were always scattered about because they were the most popular and had friends in every building on the grounds. I looked around once more at the beautiful oak lined campus armed to make the most of my senior experience. My main focus was to study harder than I ever had before with a little partying in between.

I was assigned the same dormitory that I had lived in for the past two years. Although it was the very last building on campus, it was the most beautiful and the one that all of the girls (and if the guys could) wanted to call home. The architecture of the building was built to simulate luxury apartments. We lived in a suite that had three bedrooms (two girls per room), a private bathroom and a living space with a couch, seating, and dinner table for the six girls. We even had cleaning services that consisted of custodial workers who came in twice a week to clean the living area and bathroom.

When I walked into my suite, I could breathe a sigh of relief. Familiar faces were unpacking their boxes. There were plenty of hugs and us filling each other in on our summer break. I was thrilled to see most of the same roommates that I had before. We had several things in common like we were all great friends, we were all sorority sisters, and we were all seniors. I did not have to worry about living with strangers. We knew each others likes and dislikes. For instance, we knew what time we should or shouldn't play loud music or bring guys to our rooms. All was well in Shores Hall. An exciting school year was in the making.

****

After registering, I was approached by an attractive young man who asked me for directions to the social science building. He was cute