I was waiting for some magical moment…

When I was sixteen, I was hanging out in an AOL chat room one night (like I did every night) and a boy who frequented the same chat room sent me an IM which I thought was weird because he hardly ever talked and I couldn’t figure out why he decided that night to IM me (not to be creepy but I legit still have that first conversation saved in one of my email account archives somewhere). We got the talking and after about a month or so of back and forth, tug and pull, does he like me or does he not like me — I finally asked him out on May 29th 2001. True, we hadn’t met yet, he lived in the city which was an hour away. We didn’t meet until maybe a week or two after that. My good friend (who’s still a good friend) dragged me with her the next time I was in the city to meet him and it was… weird. For someone who had daydreamed of their first kiss their whole life it was just… strange. If that makes sense.

After that seeing each other was a little complicated at first until he came over the first time and met my parents, after that it was a little easier to make it out to the city. For 16 year olds we were pretty crafty with hiding our long distance relationship from our parents prior to you know, not hiding it. Insane is the word that comes to mind when I think back of all the ways we tried to see each other.

Our romance only lasted about 5 months (but it felt like foreverrrr) and there was a lot of drama, mostly from my end. I was a bat crazy psycho (sorry dude) over everything. And the heartbreak that came from our final break up was so painful I didn’t know what to do with myself for literally a year. It was bad. Really bad. It literally destroyed me bad. But looking back it wasn’t just the relationship itself that destroyed me, it went on into things much deeper than that. I think I pretty much just used the relationship as an excuse to let all of the hurt from everything else surface and at some point it all got so mixed up I couldn’t tell what from what anymore.

I thought I’d never get over him.

But now, twelve years later (holy crap I can’t believe it’s been that long!) I can honestly say I barely think of him. I do wonder how he’s doing when his name pops up on a mutual friends Facebook status or what he’s up to or if we could still be friends today (then I think… no. Why would I want to do that?!). I can’t say I think back to our good times because I don’t remember them. I do remember he use to make sure there was Cherry Pepsi for me when I came over and he’d buy me Cherryheads (which was my favorite candy then — and now).

I do think about how he was the perfect person to destroy me. We didn’t have anything in common, we got along on a pretty shallow level and honestly there was nothing I really liked about him. Isn’t that strange? To be so in love with someone at some point of your life, think back and realize there was nothing even there to begin with? Love is truly blind as shit. We weren’t even friends while we were dating. He didn’t support anything I wanted to do with my life and he gave crappy advice. But I grew so much from that point of my life and I think that’s what really matters to me.

Everyone worries about their first kiss being perfect or losing their vee card to the perfect person but honestly, when you grow up and you get down to experience, your first anything sort of just fades into the background. It’s almost as important as when your first tooth fell out.

It becomes irrelevant.


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