After high school, my cousins and I starting going on group dates with some guys who were from Utah, in Ohio to sell for the summer. The one I dated was 25 (I was 18) and although we were never super serious, we were exclusive, and both headed back to Provo in the Fall, with, what I assumed, the intention of dating (talking on the phone the entire drive he took from Ohio to Utah). Long story short, after we (separately) came to Provo, I didn't see or hear from him. Initially, I was crushed, and my first week in Utah I would cry myself to sleep. Did I really have no say in the matter? It sucked. Breakups always suck if you are not the one doing the breaking. Within weeks, I had an enviable social life (despite what happened, I have a little faith in humanity), but would still wonder in the back of my mind what happened to him.
That November this guy has the nerve to send me a FOUR PAGE TEXT, informing me that he started seeing someone else that fall, and didn't want to hurt my feelings, and he was getting married that month. To a girl he knew three months. Again, I was confused and devastated. It SUCKED and I felt like the most pathetic person in history.
So why would I share something like this? Something so awful and embarrassing, I don't think I've even mentioned it to Mr. D?
Because even though it SUCKS and I had no control or say over the situation, it was the greatest thing to happen to me at that time.
I realized that I needed to re-evaluate my goals in life. I cried, I prayed, I soul-searched. I wanted to prepare for and serve a mission; get my education; and not let any guy, dictate my happiness without my consent... I set out to fill my life with what made me happy. I got self-centered so I could really see what it was that I was about, and as I focused on working to perfect ME, I was content. I was preparing myself for a mission... I just didn't realize what KIND of mission until a year later, when I met Mr. D.
No matter how many or few, never forget to count your blessings.