When I first met you, I was thirteen years old. Awkward, short, chubby with bad teeth and no fashion sense to speak of. No one would have called me pretty. You were fifteen and amazing. You were tall, with almond shaped brown eyes, and a mop of black hair, and a mouth full of the craziest braces I'd ever seen. You were the first person who ever gave me butterflies in my stomach; I bet you didn't know that, did you? Well, even after all these years, when I think back these days... I feel bittersweet nostalgia.
You were best friends with my best friend's boyfriend. Therefore you were always in the background. Those two would be acting lovey-dovey and we'd be standing around awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say. I wanted very badly for you to be my boyfriend. But of course, I had no idea how to tell you how I felt. I thought about writing a letter. I thought about telling Danielle to talk to you for me. In the end, I ended up resorting to something only a 90s creeper would do: I looked up your phone number in the phone book. There weren't many people with your last name, and it didn't take me long to get to you.
You actually seemed pleasantly surprised to hear from me. For over an hour we talked about silly, mundane things; and yet, I could not bring myself to tell you those magic words. Fear won in the end. When we hung up, my initial elation turned into misery. I had failed. I was not allowed to be talking on the phone with boys and I was punished severely. But it was worth it, just to hear your voice and your laughter.
Our friends eventually broke up, and we never hung out anymore. You went on to high school and I went on to eighth grade. Of course I had other loves over the years, but every now and then I would find myself thinking about you and wondering what happened to you. Did you go to college? Did you get married? What were you doing for a living? Where did you live now? For some reason I couldn't get you out of my head.
Then, in June 2011, I found you on Facebook.
Oh man, I thought to myself.
The years have only made him more handsome. Your adolescent brown mop had become something wild, and untamed. A beautiful halo framing your exotic features. I wondered if you would even remember me. I sent you a friend request anyway. It was over a year before you accepted it.
You didn't remember me at first, because I had changed my name and I looked nothing like the person you knew before. On June 22nd, 2012, you asked me out on a date. 13 years later... and I finally had a date with you. I was ecstatic. You showed up at my door with a shy smile and a dozen red roses. All these old feelings came rushing back. Destiny had brought you back into my life for a reason, I told myself. I vowed to hang onto you as long as I could.
Soon enough we became lovers. And that's when things started to change. I had not seen you in over a decade and I didn't know your story. How was I to know you had inner demons you were still fighting, and you had known so much despair and pain? How were you to know that three broken engagements and one failed marriage had given me more trust issues than most people could be reasonably expected to handle? We were both very messed-up, lonely people, clinging to each other. I thought I could just put a Band-Aid on my wounds and forget it; but I didn't realize just how deeply I'd been cut. For being with you shook me to my very core, and I became terrified that you would leave. The harder I clung to you, the more you pushed me away. We were locked in a battle of wills.
You told me you would never say "I love you" because you didn't believe in love. That was what hurt the most I think. I wanted to give you my heart, but you wouldn't let me. I became angry and resentful. I held it in because I didn't want to start any more fights.
The end came in mid-August. You were tired of my nonsense and I was tired of you not feeling the way I wanted you to feel about me. It was ugly, it was long, and I cried for days. I would spend nights staring at the ceiling, wishing I would just fall asleep and not wake up. My junior-high fantasy didn't come true. Instead, it became a nightmare, an emotional train wreck. The worst part about it all was that I knew I wasn't ready for a relationship, but I decided to enter one anyway, all for the sake of a happy ending for my puerile fairy tale. There was only one way our story could end, and that was not well.
I wish I could tell you how sorry I truly am. I wish you could know how much I regret trying to make you into something you're not. I wish you could be happy with me, but I know that's an impossibility because you will always have those walls built up. I want to hand you my heart on a silver platter but I know you will just turn your face away. So I guess, in the end, all I can say is this...
I love you.
I'm sorry.
Please don't hate me.
