Oh my... I guess I should tell this story... xD
One small note is that I have been in love twice. Once was a calm, safe sort of love that arose because after seeing one another for two years, I couldn't imagine life without him. The second time, it was a fire-filled passion that destroyed me for a time. That is the time I will tell you about.
His name was Layton, and we met when I jumped four bus seats to talk to him about Skyrim. From that moment, we were best friends. For me, it was innocent at first. I was, and am, blind to being flirted with. I'm so unused to it and I've always had male best friends, so I cannot tell the difference most times. I thought it was hilarious when this 6 foot monster of a man would toss me over his shoulder and carry me to class or kind and chivalrous would lay his jacket on the bleachers so I wouldn't have to sit somewhere cold or dirty. It was nice how attentively he would listen to me; he never once judged one of my odd quirks; one time, he even helped me separate my Skittles into their individual colors.
This went on for about four months, the end of school was nearing and he was readying himself to graduate. When he went to walk me to History (I never realized he left many of his classes early to walk me to mine) he suggested that we take the rear staircase, something I'd never considered despite my aversion to crowds and clusters of people in general.
So, I went happily.
What I didn't expect was for him to capture me in arms like iron and scorch my lips. From the first kiss, I was addicted. And, it wasn't the healthy kind of addiction either. People can say they are addicted to jogging or to chocolate or writing... But he was heroine in my system. He said that he couldn't graduate without knowing.
A few days later, his family had to pick up and move unexpectedly. It was sudden and sharp and I felt like I had lost a part of myself. But, he and I promised to continue trying to be together. We called and spoke on the phone every night until we fell asleep and skyped as frequently as we could manage. Things were going so well.
Before I go further, I must let you know a bit more about Layton. He was a gentleman, yes, and the reincarnation of Jack Black. He could make me laugh for hours and feel better when life was at its worst. But, he had a darker side. He had been raised by parents who were divorced and constantly poisoned his thoughts of love. He knew not what it meant for someone to love another unconditionally, nor what a functioning relationship should look like. He had this desperate need for attention and for affirmation from others, making him subject to peer pressure.
This is where our trouble began, really.
I had a life, of course, and did not always think to check my phone every five minutes for a worried text. He accused me of cheating, of lying, and general foulness. But I loved him and I knew it was his lack of self-confidence. I did my best to assure him constantly, to prove I was fair and loyal. I stopped going out with my friends to sate him, started having panic attacks any time my phone neared death.
It was torturous and unhealthy. But I loved him. Fiercely and passionately I loved him and wanted nothing more than to see him happy; I felt he deserved that after the life he'd lived. So I sacrificed myself again and again to keep things as they were.
Summer began and he surprised me by returning to our city, vacationing here with his family. For a weekend, we were truly a couple and were able to do all of the couple-y things (going to Walmart together, riding a boat out on the lake, getting sunburnt to shit because I'm the color of glue... xD ). I won't bore you with the details, but we make love recklessly and passionately. Such is the way of two youngin's in love, y'know?
He left, and things were better than ever.
As abruptly as a gunshot, it all changed only a week later.
He called to tell me that, since he was about to start college, he needed to buckle down and focus. I understood, of course. He said that he didn't have time for a girlfriend, but that he loved me and that he would return when he had made a life for himself.
I was suspicious, but I was too blinded by love to call him out on any of it.
Turns out, he was having a torrid affair with one of my best friends, a girl in his graduating class. He told her that I was a stalker because I sometimes texted to say that I hope he had a good day/all was well/etc. He told her we had never dated, never
been together, never even seen one another since he moved away. I found all this out because she and I ended up having a long, lovely conversation.
I was crushed, to say the least. What he did hurt less than the fact I didn't see it coming, didn't see through him.
I loved him passionately and my heart was broken without a second thought.
But, it's given me a more pragmatic view of love and life. I'm not cynical, I don't have an issue about it. I don't sit here and worry that every other man will cheat on me. But I learned to see the signs.
