The first person I ever liked more than my dad or friend was this then-29 year old guy. It lasted for the duration of the church camp – about four days. I was, maybe, ten. I liked him because he treated me like an adult and he had this nice-guy quality. Not quite cute but pleasant-looking. Even then I knew that looks was not important to me. It was the heart that count.
There was also this other fella from church whom I like a lot but grew to dislike because of something he said. Since then, we don’t even say hi to each other much or less smile at each other. Back then I could hate people with a vengence. Definitely not a pretty/good thing to admit to but hey, I was young. (I was, what, fourteen, maybe.)
Then along came this guy from a co-ed school nearby. I was sixteen, full of girlish dreams about love. He was quite good-looking, nerdy in a way but oh-so-smart and oh-so-debonair-ish. Of course it didn’t help that our friends were teasing us non-stop about it. I “loved” him for a good long two years and more (after I left school) until he promptly shattered my girlish dreams. We never spoke after that. It was then that I realized that the best way to get rid of “love” is to bring out hate.
There was the first ex, the second ex and then there was Him – one of those strangely rewarding mistakes in my life. That’s one thing interesting about life. You learn life’s lessons sometimes best from your biggest mistakes.
Crushes, heartbreak, mistakes…that was then.
Love? That is now. Together? Stronger than ever. Forever? More than ever.
Strange yet comforting to know that I can only see myself with someone for the rest of my life. That I only want to belong to him alone.
We sure came a long way.
I Only Want To Be With You by Vonda Shepard