I've had one, just one, relationship, from the beginning of high school to the first semester of college. It was a several-times off-and-on-again situation where we both had to keep it a secret due to our own parents (my father is a firm believer in relationships not existing before getting a college degree, her parents wanted her to not date in high school because they were both on second marriages as both had divorced from their respective high-school-sweethearts). Her parents were great to her, but they raised her in such a way that she couldn't bear the guilt of keeping the secret from them. I had no such inhibition.
Every single time we decided that she would tell her parents, I'd find her the next day trying to break up with me, because she ended up not being able to tell them.
We finally got around to college. She made friends at her all-girls' college. I did not make friends at my shit college. I went from being a popular smart funny guy in high school who felt pretty awesome every day to a depressed loner who regrets everything I do as soon as I do it. But she was not there for me. She would not talk to me online frequently. When she did, she was often impatient, as if I was constantly annoying her no matter what I said, and it would usually end in some argument. She kept delaying my plans to travel and see her. Finally, during my Finals week, a literal week before I'd finally be able to go home and see her, she sent me a break-up email telling me many reasons why it'll no longer work, including the fact that she introduced me in stories to her friends as "her friend" rather than "her boyfriend". She had socially dumped me since the beginning of the September that year.
The story doesn't end there, but it does soon. The second when I stopped fighting it and defeatedly told her that, "Whatever, I'm not going to convince you back, you're free of me," she suddenly enjoyed my company again. We had our first legitimately enjoyable conversation in months, where she wasn't eager to stop listening to me. Unfortunately, as the months passed and the spring semester completed, I thought I would be able to get her back. Everything was being rekindled, we would fricken cuddle on the sofa, but neither of us would ever say anything aloud even alluding to it. She'd brush by with full body contact, I'd lift her up and carry her "in good fun". Mhm. I knew that if I mentioned what we were actually doing, she'd suddenly go into a complete denial. But what I didn't realize is how idiotic and stupid TV is.
What?
So the summer after the freshman year of college, we're completely into each other again, but not saying anything. We go see movies together, we go on a few dates without calling them dates, all that jazz. But in the middle of August, she goes back to college. And I think I need to make my move. So for her second-to-last day, we go to see I N C E P T I O N and she loves it. She starts gibbering about how great everything is in it (that was my third time seeing the movie in theaters, so I too did love it) and I thought in her excitement it was the time to embrace her and make her know that I want to get the relationship back together. But at that moment, her parents call her: they're in the parking lot and ready to pick us up, and immediately roll in front of us.
I lose that chance to hug her and ask her to be my girlfriend again. And I'm not going to see her again until later that semester or maybe the winter break.
So the next day (clearly, I lied about the story being over soon), her last day, where she's packing and chilling at home with her folks, I talk to her online throughout the day. As the day goes to night, I consider my options, and fall on the incredibly stupid idea of making a surprise last visit.
Understand that I am NOT a risk-taker. I plan on never entering the stock market. I am capable of spontaneity but I don't do rash things that can have far-reaching irreversible negative consequences. But somehow, I'm convinced that she will really, really appreciate my surprise visit at 12 midnight.
So, around 11pm, I begin my 45-minute walk to her house. I text to her as she rants about our mutual friend, and lie to her that I am fixing the garbage disposal underneath the sink with my father to explain why we need to carry the conversation via text instead of Google Talk. (I am not a Proficient Liar, so I used a scenario that I actually already performed earlier that day.) In reality, I kept the conversation going because I wanted to make sure she wouldn't fall asleep.
When I arrive at her place, I send her the text. "I'm actually out front! Open the backdoor and meet me!" Her bedroom window faces the street, where I stand waving my bright cellphone's screen. She replies with a "what the fuck" and, well,
she is furious. She berates me and her mother hears her downstairs, which makes the mother ask what the noise is, and of course she won't lie to her mother, so now the parents know that I'm visiting at midnight. Luckily, they don't come downstairs, she tells her to keep it short, and my ex and I sit on the patio and discuss. After about 30 minutes, she makes it very clear that she never intends on dating me again, I'm a fucking creeper, there's too much baggage, she'll marry me as a last resort if we're both 40 and not married, tells me to go home, and leaves a crying man to walk home, blubbering on his cellphone to his best friend about one of his stupidest ideas ever.
Pro-tip: Showing up at midnight is what CREEPERS do. Don't do it.
And I'm not just making a Minecraft reference. And to end the story, a semester of silence passes by, followed by an un-rekindled awkward tentative friendship that's barely existing by a thread for another .75 years. So, formally 1.75 years of breakup. And every single day, I still cannot stop thinking about her. Sometimes rage, sometimes disgust, sometimes hope, but most often despair. I think I love her.
