On What You Do When Your Fiancé Ghosts You: One Day At A Time


this piece won’t have my normal wit or be full of flowery language.

i’m not even sure if it’ll provide you with anything.

but it is the piece i need to write for myself right now.

this is a piece about how you recover when your fiance ghosts you,

(with the exception of two emails—one being to cancel the wedding you’ve spent the last year planning and the other letting you know he’d moved back to the Midwest)

4 months before your wedding leaving you to move out of your shared home, announce your cancelled nuptials to family and friends and eat deposits you paid in full alone:

in the days/weeks immediately after you just sleep.

and cry. a lot.

you manage the disappointment/shock of others.

you email the wedding photographer. the venue. the florist. the dj. the seamstress. the hotel.

you tell and retell the story so many times you naturally leave gaps to allow for emotional responses.

you move out of the city that sounds/feels/tastes like you and him.

you reach out to any and everyone who knew him and may be able to explain why he did this.

none of them respond.

you cut your hair.

you watch every season of Soul Food and almost throw your TV out of the window when Teri marries Damon.

you stop eating.

you stop sleeping.

you journal because replaying it aloud hurts too bad but writing it down helps you remember that this is real.

you hang your wedding dress in your mother's closet because...one day, maybe.

you vow to only watch funny things but the romcoms hurt so good.

you do a full-on blood-curdling scream in the middle of a Whole Foods when a woman knocks your smoothie out of your hand because...

you buy new clothes.

you workout.

you apply for grants.

you plan trips because running farther away may help.

you go on dates.

you try to create.

you can't.

you disconnect.

you reconnect.

you talk around it.

you talk about it.

small things hurt more than they should.

big things hurt less than they should.

you change your routines. (they say it helps, it does...kinda)

you focus on forgiving yourself. you focus on forgiving yourself. you focus on forgiving yourself.

you laugh at something one day and recognize your happiness again.

the next day is harder.

your birthday comes. he texts.

you remember that this is a process.

you go back to bed. you stay there for the day.

you decide to write about it.

for the first time but probably not the last.

it hurts differently than the times before so the words don’t come as easily.

you write them anyway.

you leave things out. the things that hurt the most. the things you still can’t comprehend.

you share only the things you’ve been able to accept.

you hit publish…

Order “on breakups and beginnings” here.

Read More from Iman here.