Past lives

I’ve only had a couple of ‘real’ relationships. My first ‘boyfriend’ was at the start of 4th form (year 10, 14years old) in high school. It was the immature, I like you, lets hold hands, but I’m too shy to do anything kind of relationship.
It was before either of us had cell phones (with which I was a late bloomer), he didn’t use MSN and didn’t like talking on the phone so it was very much a school yard relationship that didn’t go any further than holding hands.

My first real boyfriend was Brent. And I was his first real girlfriend. We’d known of each other since we were in Year 9 but it wasn’t until halfway through Year 11 that we spent more time together (having science and human bio class), got to know each other more and develop feelings. We went to the ball with each other that year, but nothing really eventuated. I liked him, he knew that. And I was fairly sure he liked me. But both were scared.
A couple of months later he moved out the bay into the house that my best friend lived in when we were young. We still got to be good friends, and because he was now in my ‘territory’ I took it as my job to look after him here, show him around, get him involved in events. There aren’t many people our age out here in area so I made sure he was at all parties and gatherings.
For New Years Eve his parents threw a party. At this stage, I was used to his younger brother, but not the parents as much. I was invited over with my friend and we hung out in his room and played drinking games. We gave up on those quickly mostly because Brent was a much more accomplished drinker and there was no way we were going to win. Just before midnight we took our friend home and counted down together, alone.
No, we didn’t kiss on midnight. It was more like, half an hour later.

And just like that we were seeing each other. Which was easy in the holidays being right next to each other, but when school came around it was differnt. It wasn’t that he didn’t acknowledge me, it was that he just didn’t go to those extra lengths to see me. He never wanted to hang out during breaks, always wanting to hang out with his other friends, mainly Sarah, and mainly because he had promised her he wouldn’t ditch her if he got a gf. That I can understand, but what started to get to me was the fact that I wasn’t invited to join in.

I ended the relationship 3 or 4 months later when I decided that I was being treated as a friend with benefits and not a girlfriend. Now we are close friends, but he didn’t actually speak to me for 9months after so I guess he took it harder than expected. He did do the manly thing and put his foot forward and apologise. In writing. I have the note still.

My second real relationship is the one that ended earlier this year. 2 and a half years long that one was. And still a bit raw now, as you would expect. I had been friends with him for a year or 2 when i started to develop feelings. Feelings, that, as far as I knew were not returned. He was a year older than me in high school so when he left, we kept in touch but not much more than friends. In August of my last year he came to see my production and asked me out. In a…geeky, kinda cowardly way. I was typing up a journal entry on the computer, when he leaned over and asked me out in that. Anyway the answer was yes, and we started seeing each other. He litterly pulled me out of a funk I had been stuck in for a couple of months. I was so happy. I fell hard, and I fell fast.
In the late days of December we were stocking up on supplies to take camping over new years with some friends of his. I found gingerbear for him (he can’t be without it) and in his excitement he said “Ohmigod I love you!”
My heart jumped. His face registered shock. I walked on through to the check out.

I was scared, and I didn’t want it to be said lightly, but I guess I left it a while. I didn’t tell him I loved him until March. But from that day on I said it lots. I expressed it. I showed him. I worshiped him. I thought we were going to be together forever. We talked about everything, I told him everything. I have carried secrets with me, and he was the only one I ever told. We had silly little in jokes, and sayings.

I missed him when I wasn’t with him. We lived together from that March onwards. He was my best friend. We didn’t fight much and if we did it was because I always had to be right and I am very stubborn. He almost always let me win. He was a keeper of the peace. I was much more fiesty than he was. And it was a brilliant match.

But for some reason I fell out of love. I felt unwanted, unappreciated. He got busy with 2 jobs, and was never home. We were strangers sharing a bed. He never once tried to save our relationship, but he saw it coming.

And still, I still wish he had tried and fought for our relationship more. Because I still now, months later, think we belong together. But, I want him to be happy. And if I can be in his life as a friend, then I feel very privileged.

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