I was young and I was stupid, let’s start there. We do not know love at 14 years old. The only concept of love we have is mom and dad. Even then, it may not be the best picture. But we all know we expect head-over-heels, flower-just-because, googly eyed love from our partner. The truth is: don’t get your hopes up. We live in this new generation where materialistic culture tends to override anything romantic or sentimental. It’s all about the bad boy again. But it’s not always the bad boy that breaks your heart into the tiniest of pieces. This is an open letter to the boy who broke my heart for the very first time.

Caleb, I want to mention your name because I think it’s important. Boyfriends came before and after you, but it really was you that killed my desire for an irreplaceable romance. I also have to laugh at this because I know you don’t see it from my perspective. You still want that and you can still have it. You wear a purity ring for Christ’s sake. We all know whatever girl you slap a diamond ring on is wrapped up in romance because she isn’t in it for the sex. I hope you consider yourself lucky in that sense (but we all know you will place in on your Catholic values, no offense).

Caleb, you made my heart happy. You made me smile in ways I had never known I could before. While your looks were quite the plus, you knew how to treat me and make me feel like I had a best friend and someone who could love me no matter what happened. My boyfriend before you had made me an object. You never made me an object. But you also never talked to me openly about your feelings.

I always had to wring it out of people, like a wet towel, just to understand what was going on with us. I sat there in the background while you dated another girl. I envy her relationship with you still to this day. You’re still great friends, something I felt I was never given the chance to be. But I cannot totally blame you. I was a timid duck and had no idea how to handle the maturity you had enveloped yourself in. I knew your parents had little interest in a girl like me and I stood no chance against your family values. Time and time again, I gave you small tokens of my appreciation for you. I let sweet nothings roll of my tongue; well thought out poetry that was supposed to be effortlessly meaningful. I tried to visit your boarding school every family day that I could even though it was 45 minutes away and on a school night. I wanted your time and I felt as if you shrugged me off. Just as you shrugged me off the three times I tried to hug you. It’s like you never wanted to touch me even though your compliments made me feel as if you thought I was a goddess in my appearance.

I know you saw me crying the night I went to homecoming at your high school. I had an awful blind date that spit fire and hate towards me. I did it as a favor to my girlfriends. I never expect for you to be in our same dinner group and see the way your friend turned me to coal. That night you didn’t shrug off my hug and you held me a little close than I expected. I remember your chin resting on my head. You were warm, your six-foot-two-inch frame concealing my body from the cold winter air.

I glanced at you from across the room at a Halloween party the next year and saw you looking back.

The last time I spoke a word to you, another girl was wrapped around your finger.

Caleb, I wish I had never said that I never wanted to speak to you again or that it was best we had just stayed friends. It was a relationship bound to fall apart because we were so young and naïve. I could never regret the boyfriend I have today and I truly thank you for guiding me to him.

I want to be there for you and support your military career and your aspirations to learn all of these languages and work abroad helping soldiers with PTSD. This is what real friends do. I see you in my dreams and it haunts me. Have you seen me? When all of my girlfriends left me behind for the partying and the sex that comes along with being a free, independent college student, I wanted to have you to fall back on. Ever since I regain contact with you, my heart yearns more for you. I want your attention and to know that all of that courage I built up to send a letter to you while you were away at boot camp was not wasted. It has been nearly 5 years since the last time we spoke.

Again, I can’t help but laugh because I can’t remember a time you were concerned about me. But I worried about you night after night, wondering how you were doing because I know the depression and suicidal thoughts were eating you alive. Why am I so worried about you? Why do I still care? I hope that maybe you care about me now. You pay attention to my text messages now. You tell me when something exciting has happened to you, like your first tattoo. Maybe I’m dreaming but I hope when you come home, you’ll take the time to have coffee with me. You still make my heart happy. It skips a beat when you message me back. My love is still there, but it’s a different love from before.

You were my first love and always will be. But you killed my hope for romance and hope for an undying love. To this day, I still do not seek it. But damn it, Caleb, I wish had you loved me too.