I fell in love at 15… I had a boyfriend that never forgot to show me how much he cared, regardless of the fact that our relationship was very private (because of my preference) and long distance (because of life’s preference). We met in eighth grade, and I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on him. I was in the lunch line and asked for a regular chicken sandwich, but behind me I heard a smart ass remark that “only G’s eat spicy.” When I turned around, we instantly locked eyes, and all I could see was sparkles. From then on, I could always count on a good time and a great laugh with him. Everything from pickup basketball games during gym class to 3 am phone calls that lasted 5 hours about nothing.
But that’s exactly how I felt inside… Nothing.
Why? I had everything that everyone talked about. At 15, I fell in love with the idea of how my life was “supposed” to be. Every couple of months it seemed like I would spontaneously break up with him, but only a couple of days later, I’d beg for him to take me back.
The loneliness was something unfamiliar, and quite frankly, unforgiving… Because it gave me time to think about the inevitable: what are you really hiding? The signs were there, they’ve always been.
He was a beautiful disguise for what was always inside me, and regrettably, I was never able to give him what I so terribly wanted to. But the last time was really the last time. After a long night of thinking, I sent out the longest text of my life…using words that should never have been used to the boy who deserved better. Although sober thoughts, it was written with overpowering slurs of drunken sadness. It was over… Or was it? 6 months of going back out into the world of men, I realized that wasn’t what I wanted. There was nothing there for me, so that only meant one thing outside of the inevitable: going back to the boy that card.
Oops. A little too late since he no longer does. And I had to face the truth.
But might I say, she couldn’t be any sweeter.