I can still remember the songs I used to listen to when I was going through our break-up. And maybe it’s no coincidence that I started writing this a few days after discovering a very similar song to the one I poured my eyes out to 10 years ago.
There are a few things you for sure don’t know about. First of all, you were the first boy I ever kissed. You were 5 years older, highly intelligent, completely offbeat, and charming; you listened to great music, spoke about interesting topics, and wore cool clothes. You can therefore easily imagine that my 15-year-old self was very impressed and smitten.
One night, after having split a cab to get home, you got off at my place and we started walking around. We ended up behind a huge communistic house next to the local farmer’s market. I was so nervous; I can still vividly remember that cold and sweaty palm sensation. You were tall and spoke a lot. It overwhelmed and excited me.
It was so strange for me to end up next to my grandma’s house because those places were marked with memories of me as a child and those streets reminded me of nothing else but her potato soup and crying while talking about my dead grandfather. And now it was me and you in this place, rewriting its feel. Up to this day, that place, which I haven’t been to in over 10 years remains special.
I was relieved to feel your palms were as cold and sweaty as mine. Did that mean you were also nervous? And if you were nervous, did that mean you really liked me? Did that mean I was beautiful? Was this the beginning of my first romantic relationship? Thank God that you finally kissed me, and the whirlwind of thoughts stopped at that moment. Your perfume was so strong. I had it on me for days after our first kiss. I loved it. I never wanted to forget the intensity and meaningfulness of that night, so I bought it for myself – it was one of the few things I ever saved money to buy as a teenager, and damn, was it pricey.
Nothing worth mentioning happened after that except for me overthinking and doubting my whole self-worth while trying to understand why we weren’t becoming a couple, living a beautiful romance in a small Romanian town. The conclusion was that I probably wasn’t good enough for you. And so, life continued…I had my first proper relationship shortly after that, which lasted for about 4 years. After many firsts and a lot of drama, it ended. And now I was ready to take the world by storm. I went to study abroad for a year and while I was there, we started reconnecting via gtalk.
After having moved back home, I was extremely tangled up in my depression and anxiety, but you were there and made me feel so much better. You would drive me around in your orange car. I thought that was awesome, by the way. You were living the dream, as far as I was concerned. You had a cool marketing job in an interesting company, you were still listening to very hip music and you were my exclusive source of fun facts and underground information. Arrested development, the theory of six degrees of separation, online ads…are just a few of the things I learned from you that I still find useful to this day. I thought you were by far the most interesting person on the planet.
And then you moved away, and I felt left behind. You had a new job, you were becoming successful and appreciated and had left your old life behind in what I see now, was a pretty healthy way. Contrary to that, back then I thought you simply didn’t love me enough to stay with me or at least to come and see me every so often. I drove with you to your new life and stayed there for a couple of weeks and then I returned home, 500 km back to our hometown.
I would get so triggered by what I know now was my childhood trauma. I felt abandoned, unloved, alone. I was convinced that if someone really loves you, as you said you did, they will move mountains for you. They would come over and beg you to be with them. I was expecting you to say things like ”I cannot live without you. I need you, please come here and be with me. I would do anything for you. I adore you.” Instead, you said other beautiful things…but they didn’t echo in my head as loud as the bad things did. I gave you one more chance at being desperately in love with me. I wanted to see what would happen if we would just break it off? Did you really love me, like you said you did?
”He’ll need to prove it to me”, I said to myself.
We were still keeping in touch when you told me you were going to come home for a weekend and that you’d like for us to meet. I knew it: you wanted us to get back together. I also desperately wanted that. I prepared a speech in my head and couldn’t wait to kiss you and for you to hold me super tight as you used to, it always felt like you were trying to squeeze me into your soul when you did that. I really felt your love then.
Instead, you told me you were seeing someone else. But it was just a fling, even though you kind of liked her. ”You’re the one I love”, you said. I can’t get this out of my head, even though it’s been so many years since that moment took place.
”I don’t like that when she showers, her hairs stay stuck to the surface of the tub.”
The fact that you shared this super intimate detail made me so angry. There I was: left behind, dreaming of you, of us getting back together and you were putting this image in my head, of your new girlfriend’s black hair, of her taking a shower at your place after you have sex.
I believe I started cursing at you after that and because I felt so humiliated and deeply saddened and distressed, I wanted to run away and cry somewhere where you couldn’t see me. You didn’t deserve to see how much I actually cared about you and how much this made me suffer. I felt someone was shoving their fist in my stomach and pulling my insides apart. It felt so fucking intense. I just didn't know how to handle all of that.
Where could I run to?! I couldn't go home like this; I didn't want my parents to get worried about how upset I was. I just needed a place to go to where I could scream and cry and tell someone about what had just happened. So, I started walking towards my best friend’s house.
You insisted on giving me one last hug which I felt very offended by. I did not want your stupid hug under any circumstance. It felt like such a selfish thing on your part. Hurt me, disillusion me and then hug me, just like that. So that you would get closure or even one more second of my warmth. I said no many times and I pulled away when you tried to come close to me. You did it anyway, against my will. I remember standing there, embraced by your selfishness and desperate attempt at the last goodbye, or maybe even forgiveness. Although it didn’t feel at all like you were sorry for anything. Perhaps it was painful for you to see me so hurt.
In my momentary shock, I sent you awful texts and called you many times to scream at you, to hurt you with my words. I wanted you to share my pain. So, you would understand how much I was hurting. So, you would realize how much I actually loved you and needed you back. At one point you just hung up and never picked up any of my calls ever again. Even after years when I would still attempt to apologize or hear your voice.
A few months after that, my heart stopped when I saw you enter a club I was in with my friends. What were you doing there? Why didn’t I know you were coming to town? You ignored me for the first part of the night. Then I said hello. You said hello back in the most unimpressed way imaginable. Then you got drunk. Then you came to dance with me. Then you hugged me. Then your lips came very close to mine. You felt strange, like an empty shell. It felt like you wanted to hurt me. To break my heart all over again. To seduce me and make a fool out of me, there in front of everyone else, even though no one else was looking. It was dark and we were in the middle of the club. No one cared about anything at that point in the night. Did you care about me? I guessed you did not, because I left shortly after that and you didn’t run after me or try to get in touch afterward.
You had started a relationship with the black-haired girl and from what I could see on your profile, you two seemed very happy and in love. After the pain started fading away, I started feeling happy for you, dreaming and hoping I would also find my true love.
I revisit you in my head from time to time, trying to understand what happened. Pondering what was going through your head and why I reacted the way I did. I wish you would have told me what you felt or what you wanted from me, what you imagined we could ever be. But you might have very well done that, and it just didn’t get through to me. I find it strange and comforting to know that we aren't the same two people that broke up that day. I wonder how you changed, I wonder how you imagine I must have changed.
Many good things came out of this painful lost love. I started therapy, I started looking at my triggers and reactions, I had some other relationships or rather attempts at some after that. I have a beautiful family now. I ended up with the love of my life and am living a life of fulfillment and joy.
You remain my special incompatible wound. A love that wasn’t meant to be, because we weren’t in the right place at the right time. Neither physically nor emotionally. Thanks for showing me a different side of the world, for driving me in your orange car, for listening to me, for being passionate, for saying that you loved me, for calling me sweet names.