I always used to be quite cynical about love and relationships and thought I became more numb to feelings with every breakup. Then I found my wife. We were together for six years and over a year married before - out of the blue - she told me that this wasn't the life she wanted for herself, decided to move out and was gone from my life within six weeks. We still have some formalities to settle, but the contact is reduced to that.

I was shocked to my core. Our unfortunately only future children, our life projects, our plans: everything evaporated in front of my eyes. All the work I had put in: emotional support, financial aid, help with her career. All for nothing.

One of the worst spiraling thoughts I had was: this is it. Now the last bit of emotional trust I ever had has been betrayed, I will never do something like this again. I'm just past forty, I might as well finish this race solo.

What turns out is that I currently have very positive feelings now and a non-depressed outlook. Every day we move further away from that shocking day in November, I realize that my choice and my judgement were sound. People change, priorities in life change and we turned out to be incompatible down the road. This is neither good nor bad and I don't take it personally.

When you're on a walk and you trip and fall, you don't blame your shoes, the root you tripped over or the tree the root belongs to. You get up and move on. Maybe there's a beautiful, smart, fun and interesting woman in my future, maybe I'll be alone. I'm at the point where I don't care but interested in finding out