We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first- George John Whyte-Melville
It feels like the pit in your stomach is going to crawl up into your heart and die a slow, painful death. Killing you softly, the pit requires certain sustenance to go on. So, you begin to torture yourself, feeding the pit, because without that pit you feel empty and alone.
I dated him for four years. During my freshman year of college we locked eyes and it was all very magical. I assure you. I was a young, hopeless romantic. As I got to know him better I was sure that I would never love anyone as much as him. That I would never feel as comfortable naked around anyone else. That I would marry him, that we would have babies, and live happily ever after. I was seventeen.
Four years later I think we both knew, him consciously and me subconsciously, that there was no way we would work out. We wanted different things. I see that now. But back then all I saw was him pushing me away for no reason. I was mad at him and he was avoiding me at all costs. When it came time for it to really end I was devastated.
I say “really end” because at that age there are always those couples that break up a bunch and then get back together for some reason or another. Toward the end of our relationship that was happening too much and we were both unhappy. I believe that we wanted to stay together because we had built such a happy and loving relationship. I was very close with his family and we were best friends. It was one of the hardest things I have overcome in my life thus far.
After the break up I moved to London. I moved there to attend graduate school, get away from the drama, and start something new. Let me tell you- when the time isn’t right, you can’t force it. The time wasn’t right but I wasn’t over him no matter how far away I moved.
I wallowed in Damien Rice and vodka, prank called him from London, and even spoke to his mother once or twice. When I was back in the states for the holidays I would make my girlfriends pick me up and drive me past his house (he lived about a half hour away from where I grew up.) They obliged, probably out of pity.
At the time, I never, EVER thought that I would find someone else- someone that I would be happier with, feel more comfortable with, be able to see a future with.
They say it takes half the time you date someone to get over them. That is false. It takes you as long as it takes you and it took me about three years to get over my first love. And what I love about my recovery is that it didn’t take a rebound to do it. I did it on my own. I was single and loved it for two years, and then stumbled upon something magical.
Am I still a little cynical? Of course I am. Will I forever be scared to form a loving and hopefully, lasting relationship with men down the road? Yes. But I would never let that stop me from sharing love with someone else.
If you are aching, I swear you will love again. You will make it though and when the timing is right you will know. You just will. And don’t lie to yourself: Have those rebounds, go out with your girlfriends and be single- it’s the best anesthetic for a broken heart.
- SHAUNA BELLOW
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