First Love

It happened my junior year of high school. I had known her since 8th grade (she was in 7th), but never really took much notice until then. Actually that is not entirely true, toward the end of my sophomore year when she was a freshman I did indeed begin my crush but she was taken then. So fast-forward back to my junior year and the relationship that was my first love.

Let me start by saying she was amazing. She was beyond beautiful and what I felt was way out of my league, yet somehow I won. She would turn out to be one of only two people thus far to really get to look inside of me. She actually saw beyond my façade at the time and actually liked what she saw. To be honest I wasn’t as jaded back then as I am now. Back then I was still very much shy and reclusive, but also filled with hope and delusional ideas of romance and love. It is those qualities that she fell for, but little did I know she would also windup being partially responsible for the death of those qualities as well.

The first year when great! We did everything together and couldn’t bear to spend much time if any apart (the joys of young love). She desired me as much as I did her, which was an incredible feeling to say the least, but little did I know such things are never meant to last. There was nothing I would not do for her. I brought her flowers and small gifts randomly, took her places, and pretty much spoiled her rotten. She was my queen and I her fool. I thought I had found my fairytale and was ready to live happily ever after, or so I hoped.

The second year of our relationship was interesting to say the least. Due to a family issue, she needed to graduate with me. I worked my magic with the school counselor and got her into the classes need to make that happen. For a short time I was her hero, but that did not last long. As the year progressed, she began to become more demanding. No longer were my flowers and gifts surprises of delight, they in fact had become items of expectations and demands. If she thought I was going to bring her something and I didn’t, the fight was on. I had created a true queen with demands and all.

The last six months of what was left of the relationship was hell. I was still madly in love with her, or at least the fairytale idea anyways. I continued to try everything to keep her happy even if that meant hurting myself. I tried and I tried the whole time slowly feeling her slip away, but still I lost the fight. She no longer had time for the fool that was me; after all she was a queen now and needed to find her king.

So there I was, crushed and broken. The fairytale story over without the fairytale ending. And so it began. I vowed to never create another queen unless I was also the king. I was done being a fool, but I was also done with hope of a happily ever after. The relationship had left me forever changed and damaged in ways that could not be repaired.

These issues would come to surface in another relationship a few years later, but that’s another story.