Greetings all,

This is something I'm simultaneously vexed and embarrassed by. Nine months after a one month relationship, I am still heartbroken, or at least, I still ruminate about it daily.

Let me be clear off the bat: relationships are nothing new to me, but it's possible that "love" - highly subjective though it may be - is. Indeed, in late 2009, I had a girlfriend for six months who adored me, but I felt nothing nearly as intense as she did. I ended the relationship because I didn't want to string her along anymore than I already had.

Fast-forward to September 2010 and the beginning of my third year of university. I was determined to be introduced to a girl I had briefly met in the last weeks of second year, and in my first week back, I was. Within a few days, I had her number; the next week, we had a date. Another date later, we kissed. Within three weeks, we had had sex. One week later, it was over. In this one-month period, I had been on a rollercoaster of emotions, and when she ended the "relationship", I was genuinely devastated.

I'll spare you the syrupy stuff every shot-down male will spout, but I was absolutely enamoured by her; she is a truly beautiful girl, fantastically intelligent and we shared a lot of stuff. She wanted to get to know me, to know my thoughts and how I felt, and with subtle, innocent lines like "I'll get you that for Christmas", you can imagine how stunned I was when it all ended with a snapping of fingers.

This was October 2010. It is now July 2011. I am incredibly frustrated with myself that nine months later, this girl is still on my mind. Granted, I am in no way the wreck I was in the immediately proceeding months, but to this day, she still haunts my dreams on a regular basis. In fact, it was a dream I awoke from not hours ago - a dream in which I was running across a city, doing everything in my power to meet her - that inspired me to join this forum, and not my stupid hypochondria or other anxiety issues.

As if she were a virus, I want to be rid of her, but at the same time, it feels as if every book I read, every weight I lift, every thing I do for self-betterment is directed at her, as if by some divine grace when I return to university in September, classically-trained and with rippling muscles, I'll be able to win her back and we'll live happily ever after.

I don't know what's more depressing: the fact that I'm sure this will never happen, or that I'm hopeful it will.

What to do?