The Best Friend
The friendship started in our junior year English class. We hadn't been friends prior, but for some reason we started getting along great and quickly became "the best of friends." Looking back, it seemed like it happened too fast, but I hadn't been at the school for more than a year and perhaps I was looking for a good friend. The funny thing is, we had a lot of the same ambitions and a lot in common, but when it came down to it -- this was the cause for our falling out. We began hanging out and quickly began dating two girl best friends. It seemed like the ideal situation - two guy best friends dating two girl best friends. Could we have been any more Dawson's Creek? Yet, what once seemed like the perfect situation rapidly turned into a whirlwind of backstabbing and gossiping. Nothing ever remained a secret between the four of us because we were all so close. We knew about eachother's sexual experiences, the shit we talked about our best friends and there was just no trust there. Looking back now, I had some of the best times in high school hanging out with this kid. I remember pushing his car out of his garage one night so as to not wake his family up and driving out to his soon-to-be girlfriend's friend's house. We ended up doing summersaults in the girl's front yard and goofing off in front of the girl he was trying to whoo.
As time went on, our stubborn-ness seemed to have got the best of us. Neither of us would ever admit each other was wrong, we'd bicker about the most ridiculous things as if we were some old couple and ultimately (as if we were in a relationship) we called it quits. That's when things got nasty. It turned into an all out "bitch" fest where he tried turning people against me by talking the biggest shit and spreading rumors that I was gay. Neither of us was ever really "man enough" to confront eachother mano-y-mano and resulted solely to words and insults. I told you it was a bitch fest. It was catty and immature. I was grateful to be leaving for college, until of course I found out he'd be attending UF as well.
So why bring up this kid now? Nearly 5 years after the fact? Well, as if it weren't apparent enough our friendship had some kind of impact on me. It could have been that he slept with my on again, off again girlfriend at a party one night (both losing their virginity to eachother). It could be that the short stint in which we were friends was the closest I've allowed myself to be friends with anywone. It could be that in some capacity I admired his ability to always charm the shit out of anyone he came in contact with. I liked being friends with him and the fact that we were such girls about the whole situation makes me feel like maybe I was missing out on having a great friendship (kind of like having a great relationship) -- out of sheer pride.
Through college, we'd bump into eachother on occasion and it was as though all that desire to be friends again came rushing back. Again, like a relationship, you feel like once you've been friends with someone and you gone through experiences with them... how is it so easy to just move on and pretend like none of it happened? At graduation, perhaps the last encounter with him, was like coming full circle. I bumped into him as I walked into the stadium and a part of me wished we were still friends, simply because I knew we could have been great friends . Just as we had been in the beginning.
The First Real One
My first real relationship, looking beyond the girlfriends I had in middle school and my freshman year in high school, was with this quiet, cute and naive Jewish girl with braces. She was a tough cookie to crack, but ultimately it seemed like she had given me a chance. Our best friends were beginning to kindle a relationship, and I was eager to show her that she was worth of being in one too. She was often bashful, laughing when she got nervous, rolling those blue/green eyes and shifting her weight from leg to leg the way someone who is uncomfortable giving a speech does. I remember bringing her a can of soup to school one day before we begun dating because she had mentioned she felt sick. I really liked this girl and it was great that our friends were dating -- it only seemed natural to be together.
At first, she just wasn't that into me. As time went on, I suppose I showed her a side that impressed her because we quickly began dating. I remember the first move I ever made on her was as we sat on her couch in the living room of her house. We were watching TV and her younger brother was in his room. We sat quietly in the dark staring at the screen. My heart was racing and I could tell she was a bit nervous herself. I always felt awkward making the first move out of fear that maybe she just wasn't into me that way. I attempted to adjust myself as her hand rested calmly on the seat cushion next to my leg. I did one of those half get up, half sit down moves and placed my hand on hers as I sat back down. I can't remember what happened after that, but we dated for a while on again, off again. It was always my decision to break up with her (partly influenced by my "best friend" mentioned above as he'd convince me that it'd be so much cooler to go out as single guys to these parties) and like ass I listened to him once. He'd also try to convince me that she wasn't worth it sometimes or that she wasn't really my type. Clearly, I was an idiot to be so easily manipulated. Turns out he must have just wanted her for himself because he ended up sleeping with her for some years down the road. Except, he always treated her like shit and she always ran back for more. Again, it's his relentless ability to make you feel like you're the only in a room.
Anyways, back to this girl. Like no other girl I'd been with, I was in awe of this girl. I could talk to her unlike any other girl I could talk to. We'd spend some nights sitting in my VW Golf just staring out of my sun roof looking at the stars listening to John Mayer. One night that my power went out in my house, she came over with chocolate cake and we popped the trunk of my car. Folded down the seats and just sat listening to music. She'd stop by my work at Banana Republic and we'd talk for hours about life and our future as I folded t-shirts in the back. She seemed like the perfect girl, but we ended up wanting two different things at 17. Her friends were fast becoming sexually active, and its not that we weren't, but I was paranoid about the whole situation because my parents were 16 and 17 when they had me. Looking back, I realize how foolish my logic was, but it felt right at the time. For awhile after we had broken up, I could tell she still really liked (maybe loved me), but I wanted to move on. The final time we got together, just as I began to realize how much I really loved her and appreciated her. She called it quits. This was Senior year of high school. We had spoken about going to Prom together and even talked one night about how everytime I'd look back at my high school experience -- she'd always be the girl I remember. She was my high school sweetheart. Until that is -- I found out she slept with my best friend.
Freshman year of college, she'd come by the fraternity house and do (what seemed like) taunt me. She'd get drunk and talk about how she was still fucking him (my friend) but how he treated her like shit. A part of me felt bad for her because she began letting herself go, she was giving herself up to any and every guy. She became sleazy, obsessive and needy. Yet, one drunken night I asked her if she remember what the last thing I ever said to her before we decided to call it quits for the final time. And, wouldn't you know... she remembered: I said, "Don't ever lose yourself." And she repeated it to me that fateful night verbatim.
She changed my world. She made me realize what type of girl I wanted to end up with. She was great and there have been times when I wonder if she ever regrets having dated me. If she could ever do it again, would she? Or would she opt for another choice? The truth is, while her and I were great. She has simply become just a girl I dated. A girl who is stunning, but different from the quiet, shy and brace-wearing girl. There's nothing to regret there and it seems now that I've finally manage to escape both him and her after 7 years of constant reminders of the betrayal, bitterness and resentment I had.
The One That Got Away
They say that we all have one. You know, that one special person that just slipped through our fingers for some reason. At 23, is it possible that I've already had my one? It's been a year or so since LH and I broke up. Or more like she broke up with me when again it seemed like I was just beginning to realize how special she really was. We dated consistently for two years and in those two years I had some of the most amazing moments in my life. Looking back now, I realize more and more everytime I think about her how in love I was. At the time, I thought I was in love, but I never really know what it meant.
Like my previous girlfriend, LH was a tough one to catch. She too was quiet, reserved but had an incredible sense of independence. I pursued her and I pursued her hard. I found out her screen name from a friend of her's that I'd been hooking up with at the time, and began asking her out to breakfast. She turned me down 3 times before she finally said yes to coffee. We sat outside of starbucks that night for about an hour before she escaped for ice cream with friends. That hour or so felt like an interrogation. I simply kept asking her questions to strike up a conversation, but she wasn't having any of it. She left for ice cream with her friends, and I assumed that she just wasn't that into me. I was determine though. This girl, I knew, had something that I really wanted to discover more about.
Speaking to her online that night, she mentioned her stomach was hurting from the pumpkin ice cream she had eaten. I offered her a walk around campus to ease the pain. We ended up sitting on a bench in front of a water fountain talking in the cold for hours. We talked about everything, and according to her that was enough to seal the deal with me. We drove down together for Thanksgiving, and the first time we hung out together I ended up meeting her entire family for dinner.
Up until the last 3 months of our relationship, it was perfect. I mean we understood eachother the way only people in love understand eachother. I could read her so well. I could tell her what she was thinking. I knew when she was happy, sad, anxious, nervous, horny-- anything! Yet, it was never predictable in a tedious manner. It was always endearing, real and raw. I loved the way she'd sit across the table from me and stare with her soft brown eyes. She'd tuck her chin under and cock her head to the side, sometimes puckering her lips before letting out a big smile. She always straighten her hair for me because I once told her I prefer straight her on girls than curly (she had curly hair). She sacrificed wearing heals because they'd make her taller than me (we were the same height). She was smart, driven and gorgeous. The most beautiful girl I'd ever dated (probably will date) but she never really understood that about herself. She was creative and pensive. She was incredibly complex, analytical and a bit on the neurotic side sometimes.
From the beginning of our relationship, we had said that "once it stopped being fun, we'd call it quits." The fact that I was one year older than her, the future was always in the back of our minds, but we decided early on to "cross that bridge when we got there." For the longest time, we enjoyed eachother's presence and company. The first time we kissed was in my room at the fraternity house. We sat sharing a tiny desk chair under my lofted bed. She had this nervous habit of her teeth chattering together as if she were cold. Her lips would sometimes turn a purple tint and she'd run her fingers through her hair as if something were caught in it. Again, nervous to make the first move: I asked her "Can I kiss you?" and she rolled her eyes, smiled and for a moment probably thought I was the biggest tool in the world for asking, but said "You don't have to ask." And we did... I ended up giving her rug burns that night when we moved from the chair to the rough carpet floor of the room. It stayed innocent for the longest time until we lost our virginity to eachother at my fraternity formal one year. For the longest time, I was ashamed that I was still a virgin at 20 and people had always assumed that SP (the girlfriend in highschool) and I had lost it to eachother, but the truth is I would never do it differently. It felt right with LH and I'm truly thankful that it happened when and how it did.
As the relationship went on, we only grew to know eachother more and more. She flew across the Atlantic to visit me while I studied abroad, she endured the heartache of being away from me for 5 months. And, the truth is...my leaving may have been the beginning of our end. When I got back it seemed like things were different between us. There were times yes when we got right back on the track we were on before I left, but then there were nights when it felt like we were off the path. I always loved her. And, I tried my best to always show her how much she meant to me, but sometimes I did feel like I failed. She was incredible to me, always worried that she wasn't bringing anything to our relationship. She felt like I taught her so much about patience and attitude, but in reality she was teaching me about love and life. She had the most caring heart and loved her family more than anything. She wasn't materialistc and hated that I was a sucker for J.A.P.py girls. We would eat sushi together at least 2 times a week, drive 2 hours to Orlando or Jacksonville for the day and buy the same greeting cards on occasions. We always tried to out do eachother on the creativity. One Valentine's day she woke me up with two tubberwares filled with poundcake and strawberries cut in the shapes of hearts. She'd put up with the fact that I would never buy her flowers because I thought they were a waste of money and endured my Spanish temper tantrums. When she broke up with me two weeks before my 22nd birthday, at the time, I too felt like it was the right decision. We were arguing often and it just stopped being fun. I was going to graduate the following semester and I had no idea where my life was going to take me (I considered Law school for some time).
LH was the one that got away. Towards the end, I began to realize that she's exactly the type of woman I want to be with. I even considered changing my career path because I knew that her family just wasn't going to let her marry a guy in public relations. No one knows that, but I only considered law school for her. In the beginning of our relationship, I told her I'd consider converting for marriage, but the harder she pressed me and the more she told me her family only wanted her to marry a Jewish guy, the less I wanted to. Especially given that her Mother wasn't Jewish to begin with and converted, and the fact that I was willing to raise my kids Jewish without having me convert (Yes, we got serious enough to talk about things like this).
So, nearly one year later. I'm sitting in my apartment in New York writing a blog entry at Midnight on a Saturday about the one that got away. Why? Because for the last year that I've been away from her, I've begun to realize that I was more in love with her that I had ever imagined. I think about her at least once a day. I secretly hope that she's doing OK and that she remains the girl that I fell so madly for. She jumped into a relationship nearly 3 months after we broke up and she's still with the guy, which begs the question if she ever felt the same way about me as I did about her. Could she ever forget what we had?
We don't talk now, not as much as I like because she's afraid of the repercussions with her boyfriend. I don't blame her because if we were still dating, I wouldn't her talking to one of her ex boyfriends all the time. But, ultimately, it's all my fault. Following the break up, I was too prideful to be friends with her. I didn't want any part of it and I was an immature moron. I screwed up any chance of reconciling with her, and now it feels like I'm paying for it. The longer I think about it, the more I realize that she has permanently carved her name into my life. I'm OK with that.
If I could go back to that night when I was so indifferent about us breaking up, I would. This has been my sole regret in these past couple of years. I hate regret, but the truth is... I should have fought for her. I should have fought for her the way I fought for her in the beginning. I should have pursued her and never let her go, but then again who's to say that she would have had me back anyways? She's moved on and she seems like she's happy. I can only hope that she is genuinely happy. I think the sad part of this whole situation is that if she would have me back, I'd do it. It's sad because I hate letting someone else have control of me, my feelings, my actions. But, I learned my lesson with LH. You just don't give up when it gets tough and I gave up too easily.
We had spoken on the phone a couple of times this summer when I would get drunk and think about her. Ultimately, she decided to end our phone conversations when she kept this fact away from her boyfriend. She even gave me an ultimatum at one point that the only way we could talk is if I genuinely didn't have feelings for her...she asked me...and I said no because I thought I didn't. I'm sensing a theme here. Clearly, I suppress my feelings for this girl because I'm afraid to be that guy who's still in love with his ex girlfriend. The token love-struck guy who's the lead singer of every pop-punk band on MTV's airwaves.
I came across a blog entry I had written about LH when I was abroad. It pretty much details how wonderful I thought (still think) she is.
So what's the point of all of this? Truthfully, I've probably shared more about my relationships in this entry than I ever should have. I'll regret it for sometime and then forget it was written as I post new entries. I'm sharing because I'm tired of being a closed book. I'm sick of being guarded with what I really mean to say or want to say out of fear. I really just want to be OK with being myself and having the people who care take it for what it is. It's almost as though only then will I truly feel comfortable around people. When I know that I don't have anything to hide, or fear of saying what I really mean. If only everyone could as uninhibited.
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