jackofthegames Posted March 8, 2011 Posted March 8, 2011 Hey all, I’m John. This is the story of the last couple days of my relationship with my first love. We had been dating for a little over two years, 16 months of which were spent in a long distance relationship because we were at different colleges (about 300 miles apart). I’ve changed all names, but the events happened exactly as written. I’m very sad right now so any comments or advice will be greatly appreciated. Thanks. Everything was going well with life until about three days ago on Friday March 4th, 2011. My girlfriend had been trying to transfer into Cal Poly’s college of business for the last two years. We loved each other greatly and thus pursued any opportunity to close the vast distance between us. The added bonus was that she actually wanted to change her major to business and the U.C. she's currently attending has no business school. In other words, it was the perfect solution to all of our problems. Except, she got rejected. This hit me hard. I have no particular love for the loneliness that accompanies my vigorous study habits, and if she were attending Poly too, that would all go away. We could study together, hang out all the time, make dinner together; we could practically live together. I’d been dreaming about this for the last two years, constantly telling myself “It’s ok, I know you miss Annie right now, but you just have to make it through two more quarters and then she’ll be down here with you,” and other mantra’s like that. I had built a seemingly impregnable fortress of surety out of thin whispers of hope and a driving, insane, foolish, desperate longing to hold on to first girl I ever loved. And it all came crashing down in less than 24 hours. We were on Skype when she was notified. It was possibly one of the most crushing moments of my young life, as I knew what the outcome was going to be but refused to admit it to myself. For a time, I cried, she cried, we cried. And then I couldn’t stand the walls of my room any longer, so I booked a flight out of the local airport and was back in my home town by 3pm the next day. She made her way home in the slow, rickety, beat up 16 year old Mitsubishi that she loves so much she’d probably take a bullet for it, and at 12a.m. on March 6th, 2011, she sent me a text message asking me to come see her. I arrived at 12:17a.m., went into her room, and broke down. We held each other and spoke soothing, loving lies until we couldn’t cry any more. When we finally began to talk, it was about little things—her friends, her tests, my flight, our families. We were trying to postpone the inevitable, but we failed. When the friendly banter I’d grown so accustom too over the last two years faded, we looked into each other’s bloodshot, red-rimmed, tear stained eyes and began to talk about the glue that had held me together for the last three years. We talked about the source of our joy, excitement, fear, pain and love. We talked about us. Two hours later I was stumbling out her door, the world a wet blur, clinging to her like a dead man clings to life and praying that this was all some sick joke. We got to my car and we both stopped. Two years, one month, and twenty-five days ago I had asked her to be my girlfriend while we were driving to her mother’s workplace in that same car. That memory sucked. But we said goodbye, said I love you, kissed one last time, and before I knew it, I was blowing her my last goodbye kiss and driving down the long dirt road that led to her house. Being young and stupid, we had planned on getting married, talked about it even; talked about our kids and the dogs we would have; talked about our life together. The realization that those happy dreams were now nothing but quickly dissipating smoke has brought me to my knees more than once over that last two days, but at that moment, I thought they would kill me. Why, if we loved each other so much, did we end it? Because we couldn’t put each other through the pain of separation that we had endured over the last two years for another two. We agreed that only seeing each other six or seven days out for every 77, was too hard, and that, in the end, we would be happier if we weren’t always missing each other. More than that, we were changing. We were growing up, forming opinions and beliefs, going through college, making decisions, and experiencing life. Apart. So we let each other go, regardless of the fact that we still loved each other; regardless of the fact that had we lived another life, had we met at some other time in our own life, or had we been in practically any situation other than the one we were in, we probably could have gone all the way. Right now, it doesn’t seem like the right decision. I’ve cried for the last two days straight and I’m sure I’ll be brought to my knees by stray memories for the duration of the foreseeable future. But over the last two years my love for Annie has deepened and matured into more than just a desire to be around her; my love demands that I do everything within my power to make sure she is happy. So I’m going to stick with it, at least for a little while, to make sure that every possible opportunity to experience joy, love, contentedness and every other good emotion has passed her way. That’s all I really want: Annie, living as happy and carefree a life as she possibly can, even if that life doesn’t include me. I miss you Annie. I wish we were still together. I wish I could still hold you and kiss you, calm you down when school is too hard, talk to you about your mom and brother and life. I wish I could still tell you that I love you. But we decided that this was for the best, so for the best it shall remain. Now, as always my boo, I love you with all my heart a thousand times over. That will never change.
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