It all started ten years ago. I was eight years old and he was sixteen weeks old…well technically two years old. He had big brown eyes and auburn hair. We first met in my basement. That sounds a bit sketchy, but it’s ok because my whole family was there. When he and I first met, we were not extremely fond of each other. However, our fondness of each other grew as time progressed.

Since he lived in my house, our relationship went at a fast pace. I quickly became his favorite person in my family. Actually, I take that back. He always seemed to be infatuated with my mom more than he was with me, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. He would be sitting in my lap as we watched a show, but would ditch my lap for my mom’s as soon as she walked in.

I began to feel like I was the “get back girl." If my mom was present, he would drop me like a hot potato. However, if my mom was gone, he would come to me like I had a whole jar of peanut butter in my hand. About five years after we welcomed him into our home, we welcomed another boy into our house. This new boy became his brother. This new boy was pretty cute with his jet black hair, but I didn’t stray from my affection.

The time soon came for me to go to college. I was really hoping that he would come to his senses by the time I would come back home for fall break. I was hoping that he would realize I was his true love…not my mom.

When October came around, I flew back home to see him and my family. I was expecting him to be so happy to see me, but boy was I wrong! I walked in the door and he completely disowned me. He took one look at me, realized I wasn’t my mom and went to find her. That was the moment I decided to take interest in his brother. Though this experience was quite traumatic, we are all good now as I have a new favorite.