I don't think I've ever loved any man more than the one who's heart I broke. I was always the victim, never the villain. Then one day, almost as fast as he came into my life, I had pushed him out of it.

Like many relationships these days, we met on Instagram, and instead of the usual thirsty comments I received from men ... his stood out. I'm not sure why and don't even remember what he said. But from the very first time we exchanged words, I trusted him. God has a funny way of showing you who His children are.

I won't lie and say I remember our first date. The entire time my palms sweat, my mind raced and little did I know, I was in the presence of a king. I was afraid, I was still semi-involved in a terrible relationship, but him ... he was the breath of fresh air I needed to know that healthy love was still very real and very much alive. He courted me, held my hand gently yet firm enough to know I was in good hands, he opened doors, he expressed to me how beautiful I was in his eyes and that scared me. How could he? How could he call me beautiful when the man that tells me he loves me every now and then, and has known me for years, has nothing positive to say about my appearance. How could he possibly see what I thought no longer existed in me?

There were nights I would find myself laying next to him just watching him sleep, rubbing his back or playing with his ears as I prayed for him. I'm a particularly still sleeper, so I know he knew I was watching. I think he was just allotting me my time to think, reflect, and ultimately thank God for the man he had mysteriously placed in my life.

He was established, had his degree, worked full-time and took care of his responsibilities, yet and still always found time for me. Lover of Christ. No kids. No crazy ex-girlfriends. No drama. He was perfect. At the time, I had no vehicle, but he would make it his priority to make sure I not only had everything I needed but that if I didn't have class early the next morning, I was at his house the night before. He would watch me as I did my homework, even go so far as to confiscate my phone until it was done and done correctly. He wanted nothing more than to see me succeed, and for that I will be forever grateful.

About a month in, I was hooked, I was beginning to develop an attachment to him and it scared me. Paralyzing fear that, at some point, the sweet kisses he placed on my face every morning would turn into barks and demands about his breakfast not being ready. He was treating me like a queen, making sure all my needs were met.

I remember one day we were sitting on his bed my feet in his lap, we were getting ready for bed and he looked me straight in my face and said the scariest thing I'd ever heard: "When are you moving in?"

I looked at him confused and mustered up a "Huh," and before I could think of anything to say, he said: "Go home and get your stuff, come live with me and go to school. That's all I want. Get your degree and let me handle the rest."

I was scared shitless, like "why me"? At the time, I didn't have it all together. I had very little to bring to the table and in my eyes I was nothing but a burden to him. My insecurities kicked into overdrive. I started distancing myself from him. I would lay in bed at night and crave his presence. Even if we sat in a silent room for hours, I would have been happier in his arms than in that same room all alone.

My fear of him being yet another failed relationship caused me to push him away. I had started communicating with my on-again, off-again love interest, and at some point along the lines I traded in my king for a gatekeeper. My heart broke. Having your heart broken by someone else catches you off guard. It throws you for a loop and leaves you confused. But breaking a heart comes with a whole new territory. Instead of being confused, I was forced to sit in front of the plate of bullsh*t I'd fixed myself and swallow it, along with all of the guilt I'd acquired from literally going ghost on a man that wanted nothing more than to make me a part of his life.

Six months later, I was in the same boat, the 500th attempt to reconcile a dead relationship wasn't going the way I wanted it to. He wasn't the type of man I wanted and he made it clear we were only still involved with each other because of the history shared. It was a dramatic break up. I packed his things and threw him out of my home, again, and immediately after ridding my system of his toxicity I began to think longer and harder on my decision to let the man of my dreams walk out of my life. I consulted my friends. I called my mother and told her everything. I explained to her that I had hurt him and I didn't have the courage to love him the way he deserved to be loved, but she suggested I reach out to my old lover. I decided I should apologize, take him on a nice date, and let the chips fall where they may.

"Whether he forgives me or not, I still tried, right?"

We sat at Pappadeaux for what seemed like ages, he never mentioned my disappearing act once during dinner. Instead he talked about our relationship like it never happened. We caught up on life, ate, and it felt amazing to know he allowed me to show him at least once more exactly what he meant to me.

It was literally like we picked up where we left off. He followed me home from Pappadeaux and promised to stay with me until work in the morning. I could do nothing but thank God, here he was. God had given me a second chance, to mend the brokenness I'd caused. He'd given me the opportunity to give this man all the love he deserved. He had fallen asleep before me but at some point my combination of restlessness and excitement to have him back in my life woke him.

"Don't ever leave me again," was all he said, for that moment I remember feeling the pain I had thrown on him, it was like God was allowing me to experience first had a taste of whatever it was I was dishing out.

I promised not to. I promised I wasn't going anywhere, I promised him. I wrapped my body in his and we slept like we'd always done before, TV still on MTV2, the weight of my head crushing his arm, and my legs intertwined in his. He was home, and this time I promised to do what was necessary to keep him there.

Everyday was ours, every date we went on we'd get lost in each other, no phones, just us. That was my happy place. He was the best thing God could have ever given me, and for a while I treated him as such. I began to break down the walls I'd built before, I started to let him in piece by piece. I think we both decided to take our time this go round, and it worked. We would still sleep together every night but we took more time admiring each other's thoughts than we did anything else, he knew my heart, he had learned my patterns, the way I acted if I had a bad day. There were times when I would call and in a two minute conversation he would evaluate my mood and if it wasn't a pleasant one, he was on his way to my home or making sure I was on the way to his. He couldn't fix all my problems, so instead he decided to whether the storms with me. As a man he knew I was broken, I just don't think I was ever honest enough about the severity of the emotional damage I was dealing with.

There are no excuses for the things I put him through, I don't even really know why for the second time in a two year time span I was watching the man I loved walk out of my life while opening the door for the man I hated to move himself and all his baggage back in. That's absolutely right, I had done it again. I'm not sure if I was his karma, or maybe he was mine. But what I do know is my love for him will never die, he's happy now, in a relationship with a beautiful baby girl to raise. He built a family and as heartbroken as I am that that family wasn't built with me, I know he's where God wants him to be.

We haven't talked in years. I haven't gotten to enjoy the sweet kisses on my face when I wake up every morning. That's my fault, I'd like to believe God is showing me how to forgive by placing my forgiveness at the mercy of someone I love, that may not at all love me back. I never expect him to leave his family for me. I never expect him to disconnect himself from the life he's worked so hard to build. I know that expecting him to love me back is a stretch, but maybe God willing he'll turn the love he once had for me into the fuel needed to love a woman he's created a life with, and raise a young woman smart enough to never make the mistakes I did.

Not sure if he'll ever read this, or if he'll ever care. But I can say without a doubt I was taught how to love and be loved by one man, and for the rest of my life I'll cherish the memories of the love and peace we shared.