All Things Woompty

Loved, lost, but not forgotten

Februarium Entry #3: When You've Loved

His name was Jason. He had brown eyes and blond hair and I adored him. We were 12, and he was my first obsession. We had homeroom together and all I wanted was to hold his hand and call him my boooooyfriend. Lots of notes were passed, I know that. And yet I got nowhere with him. Darn. I did develop a habit of calling him after school on regular basis, which probably provided him lots of fodder for discussions with his friends. Those calls stopped when (oh, how I cringe remembering this)his mother called my mother and told her I was distracting her son from his homework. Oh, the embarrassment! Oh, the unrequited love!

His name was Beau. I was 14, a freshman in high school desperate to join in the game of dating that all of my friends were involved in. He was the first boy who thought I was pretty, who asked me to go steady. And so I said yes, despite the fact that his friends were not a crowd my mother would want me haning out with, despite the fact that he was in the remedial classes and I was in the honor classes and we had very little to talk about. But who needed to talk when there pubescent sexual exploration that needed to happen? Our torrid love affair lasted all of two weeks, after which I broke up with him only to have him keep calling and calling and calling until I was finally mean enough to make him stop. I ran into Beau at a homecoming game the year after I graduated from high school and he tried to ask me out again. I could never decide if his slight obsession was creepy or flattering.

His name was K____. I was 18, a naive, virginal girl fresh out of high school and new in the big bad city of Los Angeles. I had never had another boyfriend after the disaster that was Beau. K____ and I were instantly attracted to each other and at last I knew what sexual chemistry really was. Our relationsip, such as it was, was tumultuous and fiery and above all else, sexual. We never dated, but he cheated on every girlfriend he's had with me, at least the ones he was involved with since we met. Over the four years I was in college, he became one of my very best friends. He's also the one person who was a part of pretty much every truly depraved memory I have. I like to tell him he introduced me to sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. We're still friends and I still love him dearly but I thank my lucky stars that he and I never actually dated because I would have had to kill him.

His name was Arnold. I met him online through Yahoo personals, and he thought I was beautiful. We went on romantic dates to art festivals and lingering dinners. He was the first guy to (ahem) "head downtown" with me and gave me the best orgasms I'd have (up to that point). And one day, it was over. Later, he and I met up for one last converstaion and he admitted the reason he broke up with me was that despite the fact that I as a person was everything he was looking for in a woman, he couldn't be with me because I was too big for him. To which I replied "Fuck you."

His name was Todd. I met him because I got mad at the lawyer I had been dating for a month. The Lawyer had made a comment about dating other girls so I decided to date other boys. So I answered Todd's email (via Yahoo personals AGAIN, sheesh) and we met for drinks. Which turned into dinner, which turned into a sleepover date. We were inseperable for months after that. And then the drama started. He went back and forth between me and his ex-girlfriend more than once over the next two years. We eventually ended up back together, and he was talking marriage and babies and I thought I was done when he moved in with me. But then, 4 months after he moved in, he moved out with no warning while I was on vacation. I screamed, I threw things, but nothing changed his mind. He left me, and I was shattered. Three weeks later, September 11 happened. The fall of 2001 is kind of a blur because of those two facts. Somehow, in November, Todd and I ended up back in each other's beds. We thought our friends didn't know, but they did. We weren't dating, but we were still complicated. It all blew up and was finally destroyed after a gigantic blow out fight in June of 2002. We have mutual friends and I know he's moved on, building his relationship with the daughter he has (with a woman he briefly dated before he and I got together that last time) and living with a new girl that isn't me or his other ex. His issues combined with my issues were just a mess. We served a purpose to each other, but it's just as well that we are done with each other now and effectively out of each other's lives.

His name is Kevin. I met him online through a random set of circumstances, and planned only on meeting him a time or two for a long distance "friends with benefits" deal. But Fate had other plans for us, and damn if we didn't fall in love. And it was easy this time. There was the sexual chemistry without the fiery arguments, the loving gestures without the codependency, the laughter and honesty that had been missing from all those other relationships. I let myself love with all my being for the last time, and he loved me back. So I kept him. He moved into my heart, and my home, and my life, and he fits just right.

posted by Melinda @ 8:56 PM