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Popular teen speaker, Chad Eastham, speaks to thousands of girls each year on The Revolve Tour(R). Chad has written an award-winning health curriculum and several books for teens.

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The Truth about Breaking Up, Making Up, & Moving On

Thomas Nelson

Contents

Introduction..............................................................vii1. Super Sure It's Love?..................................................32. We Should Break Up for Sure ... Maybe..................................253. Nice to Meet You—I'm a Red Flag..................................354. Breaking Up Non-Horribly...............................................575. How to Get Breaked Up, Brokened Up, Broked Up With.....................776. Maybeeee ... Let's Work It Out.........................................957. Why It Hurts...........................................................1038. Idiots and Geniuses....................................................1259. Your Two Minds.........................................................13910. Moving On: Part 1.....................................................16311. Moving On Still.......................................................17512. How Not to Move On....................................................18513. Demons in Your Way....................................................19314. Lonely, Sad, Loving, Happy............................................213Notes.....................................................................223About the Author..........................................................226Acknowledgments...........................................................226

Chapter One

Love: a virtue representing all of human kindness, compassion, and affection. —Merriam-Webster

To be loved is to be known, deeply, and we all want to be loved. —chad

This Absolutely Must Be Love ... Maybe

When you are a guy just starting college, already overwhelmed by everything new, you don't expect to run smack-dab into her the first week. Her. She was absolutely gorgeous, and I mean truly stunning, with crazy blue eyes, a wowing smile, and a super-awesome-looking face. Her name was Jen, but my brain immediately nicknamed her dream girl. (Also, ahead of time, this isn't The Notebook ... sorry.) When I met her, Jen had on running shorts and a beat–up college T-shirt, with a pencil between her teeth. I don't think the pencil was there permanently—probably she was just studying. Of course, she was even prettier because she laughed a lot, and the only wrinkles on her face were in the corners of her eyes, the kind people get from smiling, which are the best wrinkles, in my opinion. Not only was Jen breathtakingly stunning (and still is), but she was also really smart. And she turned out to be really, really nice to talk to. She was super friendly to me, and all I did was be kind of quiet and try not to look like an idiot barely keeping it together. I remember thinking, Wow, there really are girls like this in the world, even at my college, and right in front of me. They're classy and beautiful and fun and mature, all at the same time. Then I thought, Well ... that's pretty awful news.

Okay ... to make sense of that odd thought, here was my next thought:

Okay, self, now you know there are girls like this in the world, which is terrible information to know. Because someone will get to date this girl and get looked at all sweet by her, kiss her, and probably marry her. Some guy will get to smell her and hug her and stare at her whenever he wants. Here's the bad news, self: she can pick anyone she wants, ANYONE. She'll probably get all wooed by some smart, rich, dumbface, handsome, millionaire guy who doesn't care about money but has a lot of it. He'll probably have a private plane that goes to his private island that probably has dolphins. This means that Jen, on top of being happy and smart and pretty and sweet, will most likely get to own and name and play with ... pet dolphins. You can't compete with dolphins. On top of this, she'll probably tell this future jerk how special he is and brag about him to everyone at cool parties in neato places near the ocean. She'll probably even believe this jerk is special, but only because he most likely is special, and he's probably a jerk because he's not me.

Shortly after these punch-yourself-in-the-face thoughts, one of my friends decided to be extra cruel by telling me that Jen was saying nice things about me. A mean joke, most likely, I thought, so you can imagine my surprise when it turned out not to be a joke.

Jen did think I was nice and interesting, and this confused me greatly. Somehow, though, Jen and I hit it off. In fact, we hung out a handful of times and went on a few dates. We put futon chairs onto the roof of my dorm one night to watch a rare meteor shower, where we stared up at the sky all night and talked about life. It was an awesome night, actually. An incredible and beautiful girl just had a great time with me (which can greatly enhance a boy's self-esteem). But later, as I walked Jen back to her place on campus, that's when it got weird. She had a little look in her eye, and I kinda thought there was a kiss somewhere behind that look, maybe, lurking a little, or probably just me hoping. Because here was my inner monologue at that moment:

You did it, buddy. You didn't screw up. Good job, self. Now she's letting me walk her home. This is good. Okay, now wait. She's smiling at me and touching my hand. There's her door. She's slowing down. Wait, she touched my hand again. Accident? Messing with me? There's no way this girl wants me to actually touch her back. Why are her lips so amazing right now? Okay, wait ... does she want me to kiss her? If I kiss her, and she lets me, I'm gonna freak out. There's no way she actually wants me to kiss her. But why is she smiling at me so much, then? Okay, self, according to all the movies I've seen in life, this is a scene where a girl might let a guy kiss her. Man, this is gonna be terrible if she ... okay, wait ... she's telling me now how much fun she had, and she's not backing away. Do it, idiot, just do it. Dude, listen to ME, it's YOU! Go, man! Move lips forward, take look of fear off face. Okay, here we go ... this will probably end horribly ...

Then I did it. I kissed her—the wowing, stunning college girl I never thought would even look at me. And she kissed me back. And I mean ... it was a really nice kiss. The kind you see in movies, but without the music and film crew around. I started walking home in a daze, processing the new information about a world where a girl like that kissed me. Then ... it happened. I felt it. It felt like ... nothing.

Wait, what? ... nothing? No fireworks, no soft music in the background. In all honesty ... I just didn't feel what I was expecting to feel. And you know what? That's the stupidest feeling I might have ever had. Also, one of the most confusing. I thought I must be defective as a human being and a male, because who isn't deeply in love after that moment with that girl? That would be you, Chad, you idiot.

Here's the thing, though: I liked Jen a lot. I thought I liked her romantically, and I pictured what it would be like with her in a relationship and loved the idea. Plus, I couldn't believe she thought I was interesting enough to spend time with me, much less let me kiss her. For several days after that, I just sat and thought, which was important, because apparently my brain was broken, very damaged or defective, and needed fixing.

Fast-forward a little to what I know about it now:...