'I can't stop Googling my ex from 7 years ago. It has nothing to do with missing him.'

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Okay, I'm just going to say it: I still look up my college boyfriend online. Regularly. And no, it's not what you think.

I don't want him back. I'm actually really happy with my current partner. But every few months, usually when I can't sleep, I find myself typing Michael's name into Google. Checking his LinkedIn. Scrolling through his barely-used Instagram.

I've been doing this for seven years. Through three different relationships. And I've never told anyone about it.

Michael and I were together for two and a half years in college. We were that couple. You know, the one everyone assumed would get married. We talked about getting jobs in the same city after graduation. We even had baby names picked out.

But then senior year happened. Everything got scary and real. I got clingy and worried about our future. He pulled away and started hanging out with his friends more.

We fought about everything — dishes, plans, money. But really, we were fighting about whether we could handle growing up together.

The actual breakup wasn't dramatic. No cheating. Just two scared 21-year-olds who realised they had no idea who they were going to become.

But our last fight? That was really, really bad.

It was three days before graduation. We were both stressed about jobs and moving home and all the scary unknown stuff ahead. Michael had been distant for weeks, and I was desperate to fix us.

I cornered him in his dorm room. Demanded we "talk about our relationship." He said he needed space to think. I said we'd been together too long to just throw it all away.

We went back and forth like this until we were both exhausted and angry.

Then I said the thing I regret most in my entire life.

I told him he'd never make it without me. That he was too scared to go after his dreams and would probably end up stuck in our small hometown working some dead-end job. I said he'd realise he made a huge mistake by letting me go, but by then it would be too late.

The look on his face when I said that... I can still picture it perfectly. He looked hurt but also kind of relieved? Like I'd just proven why we needed to break up.

He didn't even fight back. Just said, "I think you should leave."

Those were the last words we ever said to each other. Seven years ago.

Watch: How to deal with trust issues. Post continues below.

I check because I need to know he's doing well. Because if he's not, part of me will always wonder if my horrible words had something to do with it.

When I see that he got a promotion at work, or when I spot him laughing in someone's tagged photo, I feel this huge relief. It means maybe those nasty things I said didn't stick. Maybe he knew I was just lashing out because I was scared and hurt.

But there's also this uncomfortable mix of guilt and weird pride that doesn't make sense.

This is why I've never told anyone about my Google habit. How do you explain to your boyfriend that you're still haunted by the worst version of yourself from college?

I've almost told my boyfriend about the online stalking during those late-night deep conversations where we're sharing everything. But then I imagine trying to explain it.

"Hey, so I still look up my college ex because I said something terrible to him, and I need to make sure he's not messed up from it."

Even I know that sounds crazy.

The weird thing is, seeing Michael's life unfold from far away has actually been healing. Not because I want to be part of it. But because it's obvious he's moved on and is doing great.

He did move back to our hometown for a while. But then he got a job in Seattle doing software development — something he always wanted to try. He seems to have good friends. He ran a half-marathon last year. His social media shows he's living a full life.

Seeing all this has helped me forgive myself a little. If he's doing well, then maybe my angry words didn't define his story the way they've been defining mine.

But it's also made me realise something uncomfortable: I might be checking on him more to make myself feel better than because I actually care about his well-being.

I know this isn't totally healthy. I know that seven years is a long time to be checking someone's digital footprint. I know that really moving on would mean letting go of needing to know how he's doing.

But I also think there's something human about wanting to know that people we've loved are okay. Especially when we played a part in hurting them.

Maybe someday I'll work up the courage to tell my current boyfriend about this. Maybe I'll even figure out a way to apologise to Michael directly. Though that feels selfish at this point, more about making me feel better than actually helping him.

Or maybe I'll just keep Googling him every few months until enough years pass that we're both completely different people and this feels like someone else's story.

For now, it's the secret I carry. The reminder of who I never want to be again. The reason I try harder to be kind, especially when I'm scared or hurt.

Michael is doing well. I can see that from his social media. That has to be enough. Maybe it was always enough.

Maria Rosey is the founder of Techhoor.com.

Feature image: Getty.