"How I Lost My Mind (and Dignity) Over a Frenchman"

Love makes people do crazy things. Some write poetry, some binge ice cream, and some (like me) lose all sense of rationality and end up stalking a man who lives 6,000 miles away. Buckle up, because this is the tragic, ridiculous, and slightly embarrassing tale of how I lost my first love—and nearly lost my sanity with it.

It all started in 2012, when the world was simpler, Facebook was king, and I was a hopeful, wide-eyed romantic scrolling through my inbox. That’s when I met him—a charming Frenchman living in the UK, a chef by profession, and a man with a smile that could melt even the most stubborn of hearts (mine included).

Our online romance bloomed fast. We talked every day, exchanged sweet nothings, and planned for a future that involved candlelit dinners, French pastries, and possibly me learning to say something other than "bonjour." I was floating on a cloud of digital love, completely unaware that gravity was about to snatch me back to reality—hard.

There was one small, tiny detail I chose to ignore: he still lived with his ex-boyfriend.

"We’re just roommates now," he assured me. "It’s over between us."

Now, in hindsight, that was my first mistake—believing that two exes could peacefully cohabitate without some leftover emotional baggage (or banging—let’s be real). But love makes you blind, deaf, and occasionally stupid. I convinced myself that distance was the only real problem between us.

That problem soon turned into heartbreak when he confessed that he had "fallen out of love" with me—because I couldn't visit him. Just like that, my three-month digital fairytale ended in the most anticlimactic way possible: a Facebook message.

This is where things took a turn. Instead of gracefully accepting my heartbreak like a mature adult, I became the CEO of Poor Life Choices, Inc.

Stalking Mode Activated – I started checking his Facebook profile like it was my daily cardio.

Fake Profile Shenanigans – I created not one, not two, but multiple fake profiles just to see what he was up to. (Why? I wish I knew.)

Emotional Self-Destruction – I spiraled so hard that, in a moment of absolute chaos, I ended up sleeping with a female prostitute. (Yeah. Even I don’t fully understand that one.)

At that point, I was the living embodiment of "this is fine" while everything around me was on fire.

It took two years to get over this man. TWO YEARS. And let me tell you, hindsight is both a gift and a curse because looking back, all I can do is shake my head and laugh at my own foolishness.

Did I really think a fake profile named "Jean-Pierre Loverboy" wouldn’t be suspicious? Did I believe that an unannounced trip to the UK would have made him fall madly in love with me? Was I genuinely convinced that revenge sex with a woman would fix my broken heart? The answer to all of these is a tragic yes.

But here’s the thing: love does that to people. It messes with your brain chemistry and turns you into a temporarily insane version of yourself. And when it’s your first love? Forget it—you’re doomed.

If there’s anything I learned from this entire mess, it’s this: never let heartbreak make a fool out of you.

Don’t stalk your ex like an FBI agent on a mission.

Don’t make fake profiles (you’re not that slick).

And for the love of all things holy, don’t make life-altering decisions (or questionable sexual choices) in the middle of an emotional breakdown.

Because trust me—one day, you’ll look back and cringe so hard that your soul will leave your body.

And that, my dear reader, is how I lost my first love… and my common sense.

The End (Thank God).