He wasn’t the only one of my friends concerned about my personal life. I hadn’t been on a date in two years and I hadn’t had sex in just over six. For the better part of those six years, I was wallowing in a deep depression. I’d let the only man I’d ever love go. Did it still hurt? Yes. Every time I thought about him, my chest ached—which was why I didn’t think about him, dating, relationships, or even sex. I pushed all that crap to the back of my mind so I could focus on the person I needed to be.
