unhooked.

My well-intentioned mother tells me that William did a number on me, and that I've done a number on every unfortunate boyfriend since then. William was my university boyfriend; we dated nearly the entire four years of our undergraduate degrees. He certainly did "do a number" on me, but I don't agree that I was entirely the villain in every subsequent relationship.

Looking back, it's difficult to remember details of the majority of William and my time together. What is most clear are the beginning and the conclusion. Perhaps I am most certain of those polar phases because in my memory the middle is now blurred and tainted by the betrayal of its end.

The first time I saw him, I recall overhearing him say that he was going the "have some of that" – no, not the most romantic sentiment, I know. I remember rolling my eyes to my frosh sisters and thinking that he was an ignorant imbecile.

Within six hours of encountering this freshman "idiot", I found myself paired off with him as a member of my university residence's brother house during "frosh week" activities. Our house representatives ordered girls and guys to pair off in a city-wide race; we were the last two standing, and so naturally we coupled off. He picked me up in his arms (as instructed by the zealous Upperclassmen) and so it began. Of that I am certain.

I am also certain that almost four years later, just two months before the completion of our degrees, I discovered that my boyfriend had deceived my trust; that the person I knew as William had an alternate persona, referred to as Billy by others, including the girl he cheated on me with while away on a school function.

I am also certain – despite his arguments to the contrary – that I saw photos of him embracing and posing with the girl on the university-hosted website documenting the trip. The final confirmation came from his roommate – who, in the end had been a greater friend to me than I could have imagined by revealing that William had been carrying on a relationship with this girl… Darla…for several weeks.

While my reality was crumbling around me, attempting to stay focused during my final weeks of school and working part-time crafting delicate ceramics at a pottery studio, Billy was carousing with a circle of friends I had never truly known on the rooftop patio of the very building in which I worked.

Possibly more disturbing than William's duplicity and infidelity was the fact that he never called for me to be by his side at the hospital after the accident.

At least a few of his friends had the compassion to notify me that while reveling on the rooftop – I imagine indulging in at least a few intoxicating substances – and whilst relieving himself into the alley below (most likely onto shattered pots and plates discarded by me earlier in the day), Billy had lost his footing and plummeted three stories to find himself all but impaled on the fuel tank below. The impact had smashed multiple bones in his pelvis and legs; as you can imagine, the irony stung.

The betrayal was devastating; his denial of it was infuriating; and my omission from the list of people to be notified of his near-death was excruciating. But I had been sincere over the previous four years, and so couldn't help but feel pity and distress for his shattered physical condition, despite my own emotionally battered state.

In an unexpected visit to his bedside at hospital, I offered William a chance to move forward with me; I told him I was capable of forgiving his betrayal, this once. He had planned to take time off following graduation, traveling Southeast Asia, teaching English. In a pivotal gesture, I offered to join him, suggesting that we might embark on a voyage together, that we might repair our relationship and mend my fractured trust. He refused, adding further insult by taking calls from Darla in my presence.

Of course William has attempted to contact me numerous times over the years, but that door is closed; and so I was flung into the dating pool. That ending was the beginning of my journey, "unhooked".