more.

This one is a hard one to write.

It is hard because I don’t want to admit that I lost a great love, and it was my undoing.

I lost the reason, and I only saw the purpose.

In 2010 I was 20 years old and I re-met* the man up to this point is the love of my life. So cliché, we were making fun of ourselves on the singles table at a wedding. I want to mention that the couple divorced well before our relationship ended, so umm, thanks and sorry about that.

He fell in love with me almost instantly. Beaches, presents, restaurants, picnic grounds, fishing spots, putt-putt golf, cinemas, holidays, parties, late nights, festivals, drive-ins, love-letters, surprise visits, family barbecues, clubs, parents, shopping dates…the whole she-bang!

…and then I decided I did not want it anymore. I wanted more. I wanted the world. All of it. What he was offering was not enough. That’s what I thought. Then.

Now, I am not so sure. I sit here, on a Saturday night, single as fuck! I would not have stayed with him out of desperation or for the sake of being in a relationship, no way, but maybe I should have fought harder because he loved me. Nobody has since loved me like that. So passionately. And somewhere, through my fears and desire for a whole lot more, I loved him too. Very much. Being so young taunted me, and maybe I did not know the value of what I had. Two and a half years I ended it. And he was very sad.

Or so I heard.

*I say re-met because we knew each other from high school but had no romantic interest. Actually no friendly interest either, so I guess I was meeting him all over again.