Like most freshmen, I came to college with relics celebrating my high school life. Picture frames of my friends cluttered my desk while my best-guy-friend-turned-boyfriend stayed stitched into my heart: we had started dating weeks before our senior prom, and I felt like I had been living in a fairy tale ever since. He was funny, romantic, encouraging and close to his family, he was everything I ever wanted. And even though my parents didn’t approve and we were accepted to different universities, we decided to continue our relationship into college. I mean, he was only a hundred miles away, a distance easily diminished by a weekend train ride.

It worked out wonderfully. He drove down on Friday afternoons for dates that lasted until Monday mornings; he got along with all my new friends and we all frequented my college town’s hotspots together. We were both glued to our phones throughout the weekdays and we Skype’d at night while we fell asleep alongside our laptops. Against so many external odds, I was successfully maintaining a long-distance relationship. It was “perfect,” and I couldn’t remember a time when I was happier.

After a year and a half of sweet texts and weekend getaways, my boyfriend made the decision to leave his four-year university and attend our hometown community college. He moved out of his apartment and back into his parents’ house at the same time I transitioned from a single dorm room to a bunk bed – in a room shared with two other girls. There goes our privacy! Even more so, my parents had dished their disapproval of my love life to me all summer, telling me that I was so young and holding myself back. But he was really good at relationships: he always put in the work to solve problems, reassured me of our relationship and made sure we were happy together. So I defended him to others, even though I was starting my sophomore year with a new part-time job and an exciting internship opportunity.

And even though I was busy, tired and over-committed, I felt myself starting to get restless. I mean, college is supposed to be that time where you find yourself, right? Yes, and I was. I was finding that the person I came in as a year ago may not be who I was anymore, and I shouldn’t feel guilty for that…

…but I did. It’s not that I wasn’t happy with us, but it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I felt guilty for wanting out of a relationship in which there was nothing wrong, at least nothing worth ending it all for. I was eighteen years old and with who I thought was “the love of my life,” the greatest guy I imagined I’ll ever meet and someone who could make a great husband and father someday. I shouldn’t want to break up with him; I should make sure I hold on to him until I want to married, even if that isn’t for a very, very long time! Right? At the beginning of the relationship, these facts were a dream, but it had eventually turned into a nightmare. And I cowardly thought that the only way out was to make him leave first.

So I cheated on him. It was a stupid, impulsive action with a friend of a friend and it only happened once.

I wish I had been brave enough to just break up with him before I did it; for that, I’m forever apologetic. Even though our relationship was so great, I now believe that the right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing. But even so, here’s the forgotten obvious: my boyfriend and I didn’t have a reason to stop being together, and none of us could see that there also weren’t any reasons left to stay together either – and that alone is a completely valid reason to leave.

First love dies hard, but I look back on that relationship with irreplaceable memories and without hard feelings: just because a relationship ends badly doesn’t mean the relationship itself was bad. Afterwards, I put down my cell phone, got closer to friends, had other relationships and seized the rest my life – free of the guilt I used to have for seizing my college experience while he was complaining about his own, switching schools and moving back home. I did so many things I would’ve probably never done if we were still together, on our way to planning a wedding and brainstorming baby names. Again, I’m not saying that cheating was the right thing to do. It was wrong, but I did do it. Call me a slut and a whore and whatever else, but I will still always know that the worst thing that I’ve done to someone else turned out to be the best thing I ever did for myself. And I’ve never been happier.

What do you think? Does cheating always mean that the cheater is intentionally hurtful, or are there times when it’s also a reflection of the relationship?

[I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the epitome of prim and proper- heck, who really is nowadays? But looking around at the misguided youths of today *ahem drinking buddies*, I’m starting to think that Miss Manners might have been onto something.

While you may never need to know how to greet a duke or how to tell which fork is REALLY the oyster fork, knowing how to deal with people whom owe you money, how much to tip, and how to address the ever annoying licorice-in-teeth conundrum without being rude might actually come in handy in the real world. I'm not trying to be your mother - oh goodness, no - I'm just here to help you out of those little etiquette dilemmas. So here goes: a quick lesson in etiquette. The sh*t you might actually need to know.]

I’m going to be honest: my last break up was over four years ago. So when my editor suggested I do a Miss Manners piece on break ups (“because we all suck so badly at that”), I really had to rack my brains for “polite” ways to conduct a break up. What I found was:

There is no polite way to break up with someone.

Yes, the cold, hard truth is, breaking up with someone is dirty business and – unless the relationship really wasn’t that serious – one of you is bound to end up looking like a mess. While there is no set in stone way of saying, “Hey, it’s over,” or “Sorry but I’m leaving you for your brother,” there are some more or less common sense rules to abide to:

Break up face to face. I know it’s tempting to pick up your iPhone and send a quick “ITS OVER. C U,” at him, but if your relationship meant anything to you at all (or if, you know, you value being a decent human being) you at least owe him that much. Same goes for IMs, and emails. Oh and changing your Facebook status to “Single” before you tell him/instead of telling him is probably not the best way to go about it either. Take him somewhere. It doesn’t have to be romantic, but it does have to be private. Don’t break up with him in a room full of people unless you want to cause a scene. Plus it’s so humiliating when you’re forced to bawl your eyes out in front of total strangers – or worse, people you actually know. Trust me, I’ve been there. Bad times to drop the bomb on him? On his birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, at family parties, etc. You get the point.

Do it privately.

Timing is crucial.

Avoid cliches. “It’s not you, it’s me,” is so overdone and transparent. What it really means is, “It’s soo you” and everyone knows it. The most important rule of etiquette is to be honest, just not brutally honest (read: “I can’t stand the sight of you naked. It makes me want to hurl.”). Tell him how you feel, where it’s all coming from, why the relationship won’t work out, etc., and let him ask questions. Let out everything that you need to say and try to walk away from it with all your issues resolved.

Don’t ever suggest break-up sex (first).

Don’t tell him he’s not good enough.

Don’t say “I love you” unless you actually mean it. Don’t tell him you still love him because you think it’ll cushion the blow. It really doesn’t.

Don’t hook up/get caught with another guy too soon. He’s hurting and he needs time to heal – and the best way to do that is to think you’re hurting too. Flaunting your new boy toy around town will make you seem heartless and it will only break his even more.

I guess the main message here is to Be respectful – as respectful as you can, anyway. Remember that his heart and his dignity are at stake and, honestly, if your relationship was real, it deserves a real ending. Even if the relationship meant little to you, remember that he might feel completely different about it, so don’t be so quick to brush him off. You respected him enough to date him, now respect him enough to man up and end it with dignity.

If I remember correctly, these rules should serve you well, but I need your feedback. Have I been so out of touch with the breakup/makeup world that I’ve completely forgotten how it works? Please share: leave a comment on the article, tell me about your own breakup stories, remind me if I’ve left anything out, or tell me if I have it all wrong. Whatever it is, just share! I’ll be waiting to hear from you!