To the Boy I Love, Whose Heart I Broke

I love you, and I’m sorry.

Whether or not you believe either of those statements entirely doesn’t matter anymore because I’ll spend the rest of the time you allow me in your life trying to prove them to you. I know, undoubtedly and whole-heartedly, I meant them both and still do... I hope I can help you learn to know them both again, too.

To my dear readers who are unfamiliar with my situation, I’ll get you up to speed.

Although I know that "love at first sight" is some far-fetched fantasy sold to us by Hollywood in the form of cheesy Ryan Gosling movies, I was lucky enough to actually experience it for myself... am lucky enough still.

It happened like all those other predictable movies we love to cry to: my best friend dragged me to a party I wasn’t really in the mood to go to, surrounded by people I had grown distant to for some years, and a handful of people I didn’t know well enough to be any kind of close-distant with.

There he was, standing casually somewhere between "Oh, I’ve heard of that girl," and "Wow, he’s still that obnoxious." Surrounded by faces stained in familiarity and mystery, I looked at him and I just knew. I knew I had to meet him, somehow. Someway. Something inside of me was absolutely flustered by something about him and I had to introduce myself.

How hard could it be... We were at a party after all, right?

He stayed around the water-covered table the patrons of the party were using to play beer pong, which would have been the PERFECT ice breaker... if I drank alcohol at all. A majority of the time I saw him, he was surrounded by beautiful, tipsy girls, adorned in crop tops, short-shorts, and glitter—then there was me, fresh off of work. Khakis, flannel, the light smell of fryer grease and the remainder of what little mascara I had left running to the creases of my eyes. Being mostly sober and entirely unconfident, I waited to introduce myself.

I waited for his attention to divert, and by sheer circumstance it diverted to me... sitting on a couch under clouds of smoke with an empty seat to my left, staring at the laser lights reminiscing on parties past. We smoked, and talked, and laughed at how drunk he was because "he never usually gets like this, he just hasn’t gone out in so long." We exchanged Facebook information, then said we’d keep in touch, but we all know how that can go (👻).

I wasn’t about to let him disappear, not before I knew him, not before we knew each other. I wasn’t about to blow it by being desperate either, so I waited to contact him until after the weekend... because timing is everything. Communicating with each other was/is easy, not to mention how we seemingly had (and still have) everything in common.

I finally found the nerve to ask him on a date for the following weekend, a wedding, that the best friend I mentioned prior asked me to so that I could keep her company. I didn’t know anyone except her, so I invited Aaron (we’ll call him Aaron) as my company. He agreed, asking if it was formal or casual and I assumed formal, but I assumed wrong.

I wore a black cocktail dress adorned with black heels and a black sun hat. He wore a black three-piece suit, with a blue handkerchief in his breast pocket. We out-dressed the bride and groom in all black. We didn’t know a single person there besides my friend and her date, not to mention the pastor took it upon himself to make a comment on how joyous an occasion it was, how we should smile after he, undoubtedly, caught me and Aaron cringing at someone singing a very repetitive and painfully out-of-tune, self written song—if we were a Ryan Gosling movie, we would be a romantic-comedy.

During the reception, we walked around the park where the wedding took place—looking through old landmarks and strolling through their community garden. As if it could get any more picturesque, my heel got stuck in the ground around the freshly-watered garden and I nearly twisted my ankle. He grabbed my waist and helped to pull me out, shoe intact. We stood there for a moment, just an inch between our noses. I blushed, he smiled, we looked away, how perfect.

***

The past two months of our relationship have been a literal dream. Breakfast in bed, he makes me dinner every night, treats me to ice cream after, and bathes me whenever we shower together. We both have children, and his son loves me. My kids love him... I love him. He’s met my parents, I met his, save for his dad who lives halfway across the country. We never really go out together either, but not because we lack the desire to. We’ve gone to bars and met up with friends, but a few hours into whatever shenanigans we find ourselves into, we’ll realize we could do the exact same thing at home with each other and be equally as happy if not more so.

I have never been so captivated and completely content with someone. Doing absolutely nothing or a little of everything, it didn’t and still doesn’t matter as long as he’s next to me.

***

Why I hurt him, I couldn’t honestly begin to explain. I don’t know. Because I’m stupid? Because I’m scared? Probably because I’m stupid. Whatever the excuse could be, there really isn’t any room for it here. That’s all it is: an excuse. What I did I won’t describe, simply as to not waste your time with more ridiculous details and spare me the painful reminder that even as smart as I am... I’m not impervious to blind ignorance.

The fact of the matter is... I have caused him to mistrust me. No matter how strong a person I seem and appear to be, I’m still just a person. As smart and as well-written as I am, or could also appear to be, I’m a person... and people make mistakes. People falter. People are weak, and I’m weak—or at least I have my moments of weakness. This is one of those moments, and this is something that, (as I soundly admit to it) causes me crippling remorse.

To beat it all—he still loves me. My GOD, he STILL loves me. He’s still in love with me enough to be with me and not trust me as much for a while and work it out. It’s not the same as it has been, nor will it ever be, but the fact that he has accepted my apologies and recognizes my most sincere senses of regret even further shows just how absolutely wonderful he is and how stupid I am for having caused any of this to happen... feeling compelled to write this included.

***

This is to you, my love.

All these words and the millions of others I could fathom to muster could never completely convey to you how much you mean to me; how much "us" means to me. Nor could any of those words begin to express how deeply and desperately sorry I am for ever causing any doubt between us while simultaneously breaking your heart in the process. I promise I’ll spend the rest of our time together, hopefully the rest of my life, doing my best to fix it.

I love you, and I’m sorry.

Desperately Yours