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"Don't be surprised if I show up on your doorstep someday,\\\" my ex-fianc\u00E9 of about five minutes said. Perched in the living room window of our Brooklyn apartment, I looked out over the fire escape and thought, Maybe you will. But I'm done. This moment was nearly eight years in the making.\\n\\nI met him in the summer of 2000, when I was 24. He was a friend of a friend, smart, cute, a musician working at a corporation to pay the bills. He made me laugh. Within months he was booted out of his sublet and had moved into my place, one of those classic New York City temp-to-permanent living situations that made financial sense.\\n\\nFrom the beginning, our relationship was extremely passionate, in the best and worst of ways. On the one hand, we were newly in love, with all of the affection and even infatuation that comes with it. On the other, when we disagreed, that passion flared into epic fights. I'm talking top-of-the-lungs yelling, tears, flying objects (never at me). And we disagreed on big stuff, like religion (he was an atheist; I'm not), science and politics that should have had me pulling up stakes from the start. But I'm a fixer, not a fighter; and most days, we were happy, so I soldiered on.\\n\\nOver seven-plus years, we weathered a lot of storms together: 9/11 (he worked in the tower on a floor where the first plane hit, but I made him late to work that morning\u2014talk about adding weight to a relationship); loss of loved ones (my grandmother as well as a best friend, his uncle); our own health scares\u2014all the sorts of things that make you feel so \\\"invested\\\" that it seems impossible to walk away. Our lives were totally entwined, and there were some great times: family summer vacations, giant holiday feasts with friends in our tiny apartment. But our fundamental differences didn't go away, and neither did the screaming matches. I was often anxious, working on us, crying. It was exhausting.\\n\\nAnd still, when he popped the question in the summer of 2007, I said yes. I should have felt thrilled, and part of me did, but another part of me felt\u2026dread. I chose to ignore it. Frankly, I was terrified that at 31 I was too old to start over\u2014all the good guys out there were already taken. So I started planning. Over the next six months, I booked a venue, a florist, a caterer. We picked a menu, emailed save-the-dates. I bought a dress.\\n\\nBut mostly, we battled. Staring down forever together, our differences took on a whole new heft. Topics like God, money, raising children\u2014you name it, we fought about it. I was depressed, losing sleep, falling behind at work. I didn't tell anyone things were crumbling. I was too humiliated by the idea of fessing up to our families and friends that after all this time I couldn't make this relationship work. Eventually, we sat down for a few long, hard talks. And that's when I got the sense that he hadn't proposed because he wanted to get married. He felt he had to; he was afraid of losing me. And despite my years of encouragement and emotional support, it sounded like I was holding him back from success\u2014my presence made it hard for him to concentrate on his music.\\n\\nSomething inside me snapped. I was hurt and, even more, furious. Suddenly the idea of being legally bonded to him felt like a trap. This was an imminent divorce, and going through that would be exponentially more humiliating than calling off the wedding. So one night a few weeks later, after getting another earful from my boss about being distracted at work, I went home and told him, \\\"Actually, you're holding me back from success.\\\" And then, as I sat in that window, I called it quits.\\n\\nIt was the boldest decision I've ever made. And I want to tell you that made what followed easy. But I can't. We sent a joint email telling everyone that we lovingly decided the wedding was a no-go\u2014I insisted on keeping the wording vague; my life wasn't some reality show open to mass criticism. Each consolation reply, though kind-intentioned, felt like a punch in the gut. I moved out of what had been my apartment into a new one. I canceled the venue, florist and caterer, losing thousands of dollars and some pride in the process. (My mom returned my dress; that one was too hard.) My family was hugely supportive, but many supposedly close friends disappeared\u2014if you ever want to find out who your true friends are, end an engagement and see who chooses sides. I was sad and lonely, but 100 percent confident I'd done the right thing, and that made the healing process a little easier.\\n\\nAnd then, six months later, I found an amazing new guy\u2014one of the friends who did stick around\u2014and we started dating. You know how they say, when you know, you know? Well, turns out, it's true, and after so many years of not knowing with the nearly eight-year-long guy, it was like this relationship had a giant flashing neon yes! sign over it. There were no crazy clashes, only love, respect and a kind of teamwork I'd never experienced before. Last summer, we got married, and we're expecting our first baby\u2014a boy\u2014next month. I've never been happier.\\n\\nSince I called off my first wedding, I've talked to unhappy women in long-term relationships who worry that ending it will mean they \\\"wasted\\\" years of their lives. I get that\u2014I've felt that. But they're wrong. I needed to go through those years. I'm grateful for them, and even for the hard, sad ending. It makes me appreciate what I have now even *more*.\\n\\n__[Real Women Tell Us Their Boldest Moments](/health/2013/09/ways-to-be-bold)__  \\n  \\nPhoto Credit: Plamen Petkov"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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