I was a naive 16 year old girl, who caught the eye of a blonde haired, blue eyed boy who was way out of my league.
If you were to ask about my first love that would be how I would start it. Then, I’d tell you about how young I was and how simple I thought the world was. About how I was fearless and adventurous and that he made being in love just as fun and effortless as I could’ve imagined young love to be.
I’d tell you about how he asked me to dinner over a text and then we got lost on the drive there. About how I’ll never forget those butterflies in my stomach, because it was the first time I had really felt them. I’d tell you about how unreasonable it was to be in a long distance relationship and how having my first boyfriend be an infantry man was not ideal, but how we morphed our situation into a dream and how the people around us coveted what we had.
I’d tell you about the time he sent me a Justin Bieber sticker in one of my letters from Basic training, and the time when I flew to Ft. Benning to see him graduate and the first thing he did was chug the hot coke that was left in the car. I’d tell about the night out at the campfire, about the time we climbed a mountain, about how we drove to get burritos and it was closed, and about drinking mio flavoring straight up.
I’d tell you how special he made me feels with the “just because” flowers, and the Skype phone calls every night. How he complimented my insecurities and supported my dreams. I’d tell you about how he could make me laugh until my rib cage felt like bursting, how he would whisper secrets in my ear after he brushed back my hair and how he taught me to dance.
I’d tell you about how completely and utterly in love with him I was and how he was my dream come true.
Really I wish I could tell you all the stories from those 537 days that we were together. Because really I don’t think I could adequately describe our relationship and its complexity in just a matter of pages.
All I know, is at the time, it was right. It was real.
We spent a huge chunk of our lives as a couple. We learned together. We grew up together. He was the first person to see me…to really see me for who I was and for everything I would be. He knew me and understood me.
But it turned out we were two parallel lines, close but just never together. And no one can live forever like that.
We ended just as abruptly as we began. It’s hard to believe its been 1295 days since I collapsed into my bed after staying up for hours on the phone, begging him, pleading with him not to end our fairytale.
I don’t think I have thanked him for knowing what was best for me.
Because of him I believe that love is tangible and possible, and though it hasn’t come my way since him. I know there is someone out there that is waiting for me, and sooner or later we will find each other, and we will be a masterpiece of all the lessons we’ve ever learned from the people we have loved.
But until then, I will be here in love. Not with someone, but with my own life because he taught me that I was someone worth loving, and who better to love me than myself.