The Story of D (cont)

When I showed up to my math meeting that afternoon, D came right over to talk to me. He said, "So I here you are going to the library with us after this." I smiled and said, "Yup." He smiled back and promised to wait for me after our class.

When the meeting finally ended, D and I walked down the street together toward the library. The whole way, conversation was easy and fluid. Just as I had hoped. When we got to the library, the group had reserved a study room. As the afternoon wore on, the rest of the group seemed to be leaving D and I alone in the study room purposely. S's doing for sure. But it was wonderful. We didn't have a single lull in conversation all afternoon.

After that day, D and I started running with the same group of friends. We became close, and we both had large, unspoken, crushes on each other. One day in math class, I saw my name written on the cover of his notebook with a heart around it. I remember how my heart jumped at the sight of it. Surely it couldn't be in reference to ME. I convinced myself that it must be written about someone else, even though I was the only person with my name in the entire school.

By the time summer vacation came, we had both finally gotten up the nerve to tell each other how we felt. We exchanged phone calls and sappy love letters all summer. We started "dating," which in jr. high essentially consisted of going with groups of friends to the movies, talking on the phone for hours every night, and once school started up again--meeting in the soccer field behind the school every day at the end of the day to make out.

I was in LOVE. The pages of my diary filled with thoughts about D. I couldn't wait for my nightly phone conversations with him, as even the time apart from him between school and our evening talks was excruciating.

Then one day, he broke my heart. At the end of school one day, he pulled me aside and said that he didn't love me anymore and wanted to break up. I was crushed. We had been together for 8 months--quite an accomplishment at age 13-14.

I refused to let him see me cry. I moved on quickly to another guy in my grade, A, in an attempt to forget about D and to show him that I wasn't going to waste any time on him. He moved on as well. Years passed. After my very brief "relationship" with A, and a short fling with a guy from another school--J, I dated S (the stalker). It was a nasty, abusive, traumatic relationship. I was with S starting partway through 10th grade.

Junior year, I had an American History class with assigned seating, and wound up seated right behind D, who I hadn't really talked to since we broke up. Over the past two years, I had surprisingly never gotten over D. I still thought of him often and missed him. My feelings for him, even though based in a jr. high "relationship," refused to die. We started talking again.

I finally managed to get out of my bad relationship with S shortly after, and D and I started hanging out again. Our friendship soon became a physical relationship, much more complicated than the innocent making-out of jr. high. Our nightly phone calls resumed, but like our physical relationship, were deeper and more complex than our 13-year-old conversations. I realized how deeply I still cared for him, and I realized that he felt the same. He told me he loved me, and I told him the same. It was perfect--for a short time.

Senior year came in the blink of an eye. I found out that I would be going to college twelve hours away, while D would be staying close to home. Always more rational than me, D said that a long-distance relationship would never work, and suggested that we scale our relationship back to "just friends." For the second time, D had broken my heart, and for the second time, I refused to let him see me grieve. I rebounded almost immediately into a relationship with A (yes, the same one who I rebounded with in 8th grade). A and I did the long distance thing for my entire first year of college, and into the first term of my sophomore year. When we were together, he did not like me having contact with D, because he knew D, and he knew our history. When A and I broke up, D and I started talking again. Every time I was home on a school break, D and I would get together--and usually ended up falling back into our old feelings and physical relationship. Through the years, the chemistry was always there whenever we met up. It would feel like no time had passed. My feelings for him never faded--they only grew stronger. I always compared boyfriends to D, and I always came back to him when relationships ended.

This past summer, the long cycle finally ended. I met up with D in mid-August to go out to a bar and catch up. I was dating M, and he was "on a break" with his girlfriend A. We talked about our relationships, our future plans--everything. The feelings were still there, but we both knew better than to jeopardize our current relationships for something that was still not convenient, due to distance and bad timing. During the drive home, D confessed to me that he always thought of me and compared his girlfriends to me. We talked about the fact that we have always "gotten" each other in a way that no one else gets either of us. Despite our better judgment, we kissed before I got out of the car. He wanted to do more, but I reminded him of our respective significant others, and told him that we should not have even kissed.

About a week later, my cellphone rang and I saw his name on the caller ID. I answered--but it wasn't him, it was his girlfriend. She yelled at me for what had happened. Apparently D had told her that I had thrown myself at him because I was drunk and that I had practically forced him to kiss me. D later told me that she had cheated on him while they were together, and he initially told her the truth about what happened between him and I to make her jealous, but when he saw how angry she was he changed his story and blamed it all on my to save his own ass. The next day, she contacted my boyfriend M over facebook to tell him what D told her happened. D called to tell me what she had done, and I managed to do damage control and to salvage my relationship with M before he learned about the kiss through her message (which was exaggerated and untrue due to what D had told her).

After that, something switched off in me. I felt betrayed by D. I was not proud of the fact that him and I had stupidly kissed, but his behavior afterward was inexcusable in my mind. All of the feelings I had had for him finally faded away with the realization that he would sacrifice his friendship with me and my relationship with M so easily to save his own ass. We agreed that we could not talk any more, for the sake of A and M. He removed me as a facebook friend shortly after. I was sad that I had lost one of my best friends, but surprised and relieved that my love for him had FINALLY died.

Now that M and I are no longer together, and he and A broke up, we are back in contact, but I still don't feel for him what I used to. He was my first real love, without a doubt, but my heart and mind finally let him go when he hurt me one too many times.

So that is the basic story of D. That gives you at least a piece of my relationship past--a glimpse into why I am the way I am. Maybe I will tell the stories of my other relationships at some point too--some of which are painful for me to talk about. I have done some stupid things, and have had some bad things happen to me as a consequence. Maybe it will be therapeutic. But I guess that is enough for today. Off to fill out more job applications.