S was someone I shared many firsts with. There is so much to write about S… most of which is already faded. It was an innocent love, a first love, more than anything I could ever ask for. Every time we broke up, I would watch “Strangers Again” on YouTube, and every time, I would still cry my eyes out. Even with all the pain we went through, I would not go back and change a thing.
We met when we were 11, we were desk buddies and I remembered him as a boy that always stole my eraser. High school made us drift apart and we got pulled together again when we were 15. S and I dated from high school all through college. It was 6 total years (2010-2015) of ups and downs; Breakups and reuniting; heartache and butterflies. But even through the bad moments, I always felt like he was the one.
I was the one who chased him, I was the one who asked to be kissed, I was the one who loved more. I hated all of those things. I hated the fact that I didn’t get chased like the other girls and I hated that I felt insecure for loving him. Because of my insecurities, I often demanded and expected a lot from him. I found every occasion to celebrate, every occasion to show the world how strong our love was. Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s day… S was a pretty private person, so he hated all of this. Yet, he did all that I demanded. As silly as it sounds now, I would get mad him when he did not meet up to my expectations. When there was no flowers, we would fight about those missing flowers OVER and OVER again. Angry phone calls and tears over these stupid flowers that were going to wilt anyways. Worst part was, I would never remember these phone calls… because I would often be too drunk too remember.
I was always the clingy girlfriend who stole him away from his friends. The word clingy always has such a negative connotation, I am only clingy because I choose to show how much I loved him. Why do we humans always prefer the state of repression? Instead of expressing our love, it is expected to keep our feelings contained, because letting it loose meant something bad.
He was my best friend, my lover and my family. The day after we broke up, we both took a day off of work, he went out and bought 3 bottles of our favourite wine and we just cuddled in bed all day and cried. The breakup was not clean, I still saw him every week… it felt like nothing was changed, in fact, it actually felt like our relationship was better. Because no one knew about us, no one else can affect our relationship. It was wonderful but toxic at the same time. The night I ended things completely, I don’t remember what I said to him. I was drunk yet again… and letting that be our last conversation will remain one of my biggest regrets.