Everyone remembers their first heartbreak. And if you haven’t? You will. Think you won’t? Don’t worry, I didn’t either. I never understood how you have a broken heart. I didn’t even know how that made sense, much less what it felt like.
Then, during my second semester in my junior year of high school, he started talking to me. I didn’t think anything of it, of him, at first. He was my brother’s friend’s brother, who lived across the street. He’s seven years older. Yeah, you read that right. Seven years. I wasn’t interested in someone seven years older than me. I was interested in the most popular boy in my grade. You know, the tall, muscular, blonde-haired, comical type. Yeah, he was my crush. I had high school crushes.
While I was dealing with petty high school drama, he, a college junior, was still talking to me. It was normal, conversational stuff at first, asking and telling how our days were and asking and giving advice as necessary. Then, the messages turned to harmless, flirty banter with “yes” and “no.” Or we sent “:P” faces over and over and over again, trying to beat out the other in numbers. And when summer came, we didn’t not see each other.
Being the preacher’s son that he is, he helped out at the Vacation Bible School at the church my best friend and I went to. Despite my unwilling interest, I made sure to wear my tank top that ran a little lower and put makeup on at my friend’s house. When I saw him, the tension was palpable, but I blushed and put it aside. That night, he called me “babe” for the first time. As it was the first time I had ever been called that, with my mouth open and thumb nailed to the end button (because, then, it was a button), I cut my phone off and went to sleep. The next day, wearing a short, slightly see through skirt with no leggings and blackberry-stained hands, I turned down his offer to give me and my friend a ride to VBS. Instead, I went home to put on leggings and wash my hands without wearing makeup.
We didn’t really talk much after that. Here and there, but not much. In January, I decided to let my 10-year-old brother text him. Naturally, that ended with “You’re not allowed to text him/her anymore” for both of us. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t take it. So we didn’t talk. I missed it, the messages. I missed talking to him. So I got another friend to text him, but he knew I had something to do with it, so he went along with it. And when VBS came around again, I only went to ask if they needed my help, and ended up asking if he needed my help.
From there, we started talking again, but this time, more than ever, sending about 400 messages in a few days. But this time was different. I was in my first semester at my community college and started to have guys interested in me and show it. So he and I were officially “talking.” We hung out. We hugged. We almost kissed. We double-dated. We kissed. We went on a date. He asked me out. When he asked me out, I kissed him, but when he asked for a definitive answer, I waited two days to give him one. Then, I started to back off and not text as much but, instead, went over to his house almost every day. For the most part, it was good.
But I had never been in a serious relationsip before. I started to have ideas of how relationships should be and have unrealistic expectations. And we used to have stupid, petty arguments, and I thought we were arguing too much and needed a break. So ten months into the relationship, he ended things thinking that’s what I wanted. But I still wanted to talk to him, still see him. So he came to my community college graduation. We exchanged Christmas gifts. And I came to App and missed him and everyone back home and him some more.
So we got back together. After that first semester, I officially ended things because I was tired of putting him through my indecisiveness. He didn’t try to talk to me all summer, but we hung out to take our brothers to the pool and have our last kiss that year. During the first month of the next semester, I called him a few times. And the next month, on his birthday, he moved on.
And suddenly, I lost him. I was broken. I lost it.
When I pulled myself together for the New Year, he ended his relationship. Not even a month later, I had him back.
But not even a month after that, I lost him again. And again. And again. And I had to pull myself together each time.
So this is for him, for the man I lost not once, not twice, but four times.
You see, looking back, I was scared. I was scared we didn’t look good together. I was scared you might be the one. I was scared to walk down the aisle with you at the other end (because I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t think about that). I was scared I would never get a chance to have a heartbreak. I was scared I’d never get a chance to kiss another guy. But most of all, I was scared of commitment. I didn’t want to fully commit myself to you because I was scared that once I did, I’d never give up. I wasn’t scared of losing you as much as I was scared of keeping you forever. The whole idea of forever sent shivers down my spine. But having had those experiences now, I realized they’re not all they’re cracked up to be. I needed those, though. I needed them to grow up. I needed to see what it was like on the other side.
So “hello from the outside.” And yes, yes I did just quote Adele. What are you going to do about it? Nothing. Nothing at all.
In the meantime, I’ll be here, growing up some more, living life, trying to figure out whom I am, and being the best me. “If I never see your face again, I don’t mind ’cause we got much further than I thought we’d get tonight.” And if we do see each other again, well, honey, I’ll have my life together. That’s for sure.
Websites used:
http://chocolatelover233.tumblr.com/
http://www.bustle.com/articles/119440-adeles-hello-lyrics-ranked-by-feel…
http://www.hexjam.com/uk/news/11-unwritten-rules-of-texting-someone