My partner dumped me after he got someone else pregnant
For Alice*, 28, Marc, 25*, was the first man she truly trusted... until he walked out and revealed he was expecting a baby with another woman.
Marc* came into my life at the perfect time. I was an over-excited 25-year-old woman, finding my feet in Paris after moving from Lyon for an internship at a small art gallery. Living in Paris had always been my dream but that didn’t make moving to a city where I only had a handful of relatives less nerve-wracking.
Marc, on the other hand, was Parisian born and bred, something he didn’t shy away from. He was effortlessly cool – a drummer, always head-to-toe in secondhand clothing and the epicentre of fun, surrounded by friends and always partying. His confidence masked that he was 22 – three years younger than me.
We met working in a restaurant and after a few weeks of me making any excuse to speak to him (I soon found out he was doing the same) we kissed at a staff drinks evening.
His constant eye contact and soothing French accent instantly put me at ease. I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn’t with anyone other than my closest girlfriends. I told him about the bad experiences I’d had with men – the ones that'd left me cautious – and how, at 25, I was still a virgin.
Whirlwind romance
That night I ended up staying at his apartment, planning to leave the next morning – but I stayed for three days. We kissed and cuddled, but he didn’t push for more, respecting my boundaries completely.
At the time, that felt huge, like I had finally found someone who saw me for more than what I could give physically. Now, I realise that’s just the bare minimum, but back then it felt like I’d found someone I could trust.
I told him about the bad experiences I’d had with men – the ones that'd left me cautious – and how, at 25, I was still a virgin.
Two weeks later, we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Marc was my first everything – my first love, first sex and the first guy I’d introduced to my friends and family.
Quickly, I moved into his apartment. I thought I’d hit the jackpot. I slotted myself into his group of friends, went to all the best bars, restaurants and parties and had a relationship I thought would last forever. We stayed at the restaurant, me balancing it with freelance art curation and him trying to pursue his career as a musician.
The perfect girlfriend
Things were always easy between us. Occasionally, my insecurities would take over but he reassured me that I was the perfect girlfriend. Slowly, I moulded myself into what I thought he wanted. I wore the right outfits and made the right jokes.
When he started cancelling plans last-minute or coming home late – sometimes not at all – I didn’t make a fuss. We already lived and worked together, so we’d agreed that giving each other 'space' was healthy.
Then, three years in, after one particularly gruelling evening shift, we walked home barely speaking. It wasn’t unusual for us to be quiet after a long night. But as we climbed the stairs to our apartment, Marc stopped in his tracks. He turned to me and said, "I want to talk before bed."
He explained he wasn’t ready for such a serious relationship anymore. He wanted new experiences and was worried our life had become too stagnant.
There was an immediate shift. I poured us both a glass of wine and as I anxiously sipped, he explained that he wasn’t ready for such a serious relationship anymore. He wanted new experiences and was worried our life had become too stagnant.
Teary-eyed, I asked, "What does this mean?"
"Alice," he said, "It means I have to be single."
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. We went back and forth for hours – me trying to convince him that he didn’t have to give up his freedom and him insisting he couldn’t offer the devotion I deserved. Broken, I left to stay with friends, hoping he’d change his mind by the morning.
The ultimate humiliation
When I returned the next day, the apartment was empty. Marc had packed up and gone.
I didn’t hear from him for two weeks. It turned out he’d handed in his notice at work without telling me, knowing it would be too uncomfortable. I told myself that he just needed space, that he’d reach out to me eventually.
The man who told me he wasn’t ready for commitment, the one who said he needed 'freedom' and 'space' was starting a family.
I wasn’t at the restaurant the day Marc came in with someone new, but it didn’t take long for the story to get back to me. A friend and colleague called me. He had met someone else – an older woman – and they were expecting a baby together.
The man who told me he wasn’t ready for commitment, the one who said he needed 'freedom' and 'space' was starting a family.
Nobody speaks about the humiliation that accompanies heartbreak. Now, a month on, I'm still waking up every morning with pangs of embarrassment. How did I not see it? While I was trying to convince myself that his growing distance was just a phase, he had already moved on.
I still have no idea how much overlap there was. I’m embarrassed by my ignorance – I'd convinced myself that he was the only man for me. But, looking back, I realise how much I changed myself to suit his needs and lifestyle.
I’ve never felt like more of a fool, but at least it made me realise that it was over for good. I suppose a child is the 'new experience' he was after...
*Names have been changed to protect identities.
Read more: All of Yahoo UK's How I was dumped stories
