Thanks for bringing this up, musick. I never had the word but, as you say, the concept is so strong that it needs a word. In fact, this "condition" is so commonplace--as I discovered when I began my research by interviewing jilted lovers which is just about every single one of us at one time or another--that I'm surprised there is no word yet to describe it concisely. I'm going back and forth between "Unlover" and "Beloved," and giving myself permission to use both. Here's Chapter 1 as it stands now. Some of you will recognize your well-turned phrasing.

Chapter 1 – Defining the Challenge

The first chapter of any self-help book is probably hardest to pen because much groundwork must be laid for the discussion that follows. The vocabulary for the topic must sometimes be defined, especially when the topic is esoteric or emotion laden. Sometimes there isn’t even a word for what is meant to be conveyed. Such is the “problem” of what to call the person for or with whom we experienced a profound love but from whom we must now emotionally extricate ourselves, especially when we would rather maintain or advance the relationship but circumstances prevent us from doing so.

Upon first taking to my keyboard, I referred to my former lover as "the Beloved.” Some who reviewed the beginning drafts of this book suggested that I refer to him in a less romantic or endearing term; that the very use of the word “beloved” suggested an ongoing relationship with that person. The Beloved, I was told, is too reverential, idealized and present-tense. The relationship is over, even if in name only, so the word for that person should reflect this.

My critiquers offered many suggestions. Words like “my attachment,” “the one I loved” or “past lover” were suggested to take the charge off a discussion about the Beloved. “The Stringer” was suggested, as in someone who strings us along until we’re worn out from his/her disingenuousness. "The Ember" was another good suggestion, as in still very warm but no longer in the fire, and because of that the relationship will eventually die out. For a more wistful term, there's "lost love." There’s always ex-lover, but how do you ex-love someone? There’s “past love,” “ex-boyfriend/girlfriend,” “former sweetheart,” etc., but none of these terms hit the nail on the head.

Our language really has no precise word for the feeling of longing and desire for a love that one knows will never be. Such a word would have to encompass the emotions one feels when thinking of such a person, as well as the broader ideas of lost love, lost hope and lost time. To condense all of those things down into one stand-alone, somewhat clinical definition is quite a task, which may be why an apt word does not yet exist.

I resisted any words with even a hint of condemnation. I submit that it’s unhelpful to demonize or neutralize the Beloved and, during my own detachment, I refused to do so. We can cherish the memories and recognize the authenticity of the relationship by acknowledging, “I would not be who I am without this experience.” The relationship happened. It had a soul and a life force, albeit a force that needs to be forsaken now.

Finally, I thought, I’ll have to coin a word—for there surely is a language gap—to describe a love that must be abandoned, for whatever reason, while still fervently felt. Naming a thing gives us a certain amount of control over its effect on us inwardly. And since this is a book about taking back your heart, control, at long last, is a very fine thing indeed.

The lyrics of this song come closest to what I wanted to convey.

"Unlove Me" (lyrics by Julie Roberts)

Unloose this hold you've got on me
Unlock this heart that can't get free
Unlive the nights you kissed and hugged me
Undream the dreams that we both shared
Unfeel the feelin' that you cared

Before you leave me, please unlove me
Unmake all the memories I can't forget
Let me go back to the way I was before we met
Back to the day when I was strong

When it wasn't sad to be alone
When I was happy-go-lucky
And I didn't know how good it felt
To hold you and feel my heart melt

Show me a little mercy and unlove me
Untie all the strings between your heart and mine
But do it real slow, so I don't have to lose you all at one time

Before you pack your bags and leave
One thing I wish you'd do for me
Take a little time to just unlove me

Unmake all the memories I can't forget
Let me go back to the way I was before we met
Unloose this hold you've got on me
Unlock this heart that can't get free

Before you leave me, please unlove me
Show a little mercy and unlove me

Perhaps "the Unlover" works well here in reference to the start of the process of unloving the Beloved, but maybe not so well down the road. In any event, I’ll avoid the straitjacket of using any term exclusively and, for now, if only to provide brevity for the reader, most of the time call the object of our love “the Unlover” and our own role as “the Lover.”

I will not address the emotional needs of the Unlover because, for the object of our love, there's a gain in being the Unlover that is beyond the scope of this discussion. We're talking about you, the Lover, and your need to release yourself from love that will break you—if you let it.

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