Love is the best feeling in the world, that’s why I’m terrified of it.
It was an age-old story. A girl had a crush on a boy, the boy had a crush on her. They were both so
nervous to tell each other until he finally asked her. The moment wasn’t perfect, but for a thirteen-year-
old, boy did he try. We weren’t together in person the day he asked me. It was a perfect moment on
New Year’s Eve: We were on the phone counting down together and he asked me right at midnight. At
the time, it was amazing. Then he told me he loved me. That ruined it.
Now that is weird, keep that in mind. It would freak anyone out, but I had never had anyone tell me they
loved me, romantically at least, so I didn’t know how to react. I liked him, but I knew at that moment I
didn’t want him to be my first love. I stuck it out for three months, and to this day I don’t know why I
was sad when we broke up. That sounds bad, but the idea of being in love was terrifying at the time.
Cut to a couple of months later. The 8th grade dance was coming up, one last hoorah before everyone
ventured into high school. I was planning on going with one of my friends, but this boy I knew asked me.
I was ecstatic, obviously, and was immediately freaked out. I shook it off and just thought it was nerves.
That night was one of my favorite nights from middle school. I danced, drank punch, and had my first
kiss in the back of my friend’s mom’s Range Rover. It was the middle school dream. He and I ended up
dating for a year, and he told me he loved me two weeks in.
I thought things were different this time around: he seemed genuine, I thought he was super cute, and
everyone thought we were the cutest couple. He would grab me extra snacks, open every door, and tell
me I was beautiful every day. Maybe that’s why, two weeks in, I told him I loved him back.
I could write a book series on everything that was wrong with that relationship. I could talk about how
we were just kids that thought they could handle adult issues. I could talk about how I thought about
how being intimate with a person that young can mess you up for a long time. I could talk about
cheating, lying, and betrayal, but, frankly, none of that matters anymore. There’s only one thing from
that relationship that has any real significance in my life now: my perception of love is warped.
I grew up with a great role model marriage. My parents were the perfect couple. They loved each other
so much, to the point that I didn’t think I would find a man who loved me as much as my dad loved my
mom. They always told me that they didn’t want me to grow up in the broken households they had.
They were both children of divorce, and it affected them into adulthood. I idolized them so much, that I
began to look for love in, this sounds so cheesy, all the wrong places.
I’m not afraid to admit that I went crazy after my first real relationship. I was so heartbroken that I made
it my life’s goal (at least when I was sixteen) to find another boy that loved me too much. This journey
brought me many things: baggage, confusion, and a loss of identity. I became so consumed and
obsessed with other people loving me, that I began to wonder if I even knew what love was. By the time
I was sixteen, I had five boys break my heart and then put it back together again. People thought I was a
slut when I was a virgin. People said I had no self-respect and needed to raise my expectations. I began
to hate everyone for what they were saying. Every time someone made a joke, I laughed it off and then
cried in my room. I hated love, or at least I thought I did.
Something changed my senior year. After two years of jumping from boyfriend to boyfriend, I had finally
been single for a year. At times it was sad. I’m not ashamed I deleted both Snapchat and Instagram on Valentine’s day. It’s hard to explain; I think I got so tired of looking for a new person, that I stopped
looking. When I stopped, I realized two things:
- I was bisexual.
- I didn’t mind being alone
I guess time does heal all wounds, though that doesn’t mean there won’t be scars. I stopped looking for
love, and now I have a boyfriend who treats me like a queen. However, I am very scared about my
feelings for him. They turned from a small crush into it being hard to remember what it was like when
he wasn’t there. We haven’t said the dreaded “L word” and for the first time, I think I’m fine with that. It
was hard at first since I hadn’t been in a relationship where the other person didn’t tell me they loved
me right away. It took a long time to realize that’s a big word that shouldn’t be used lightly. I don’t know
if I’ll get to that point with my boyfriend, but I think I’d be ok if it did. I would honestly pee my pants and
probably turn into a nervous wreck, but it’s a fear I finally think I’m ready to face. If I ever do face it, I’ll
make sure y’all are the first to hear about it.