I was raised to be a strong, independent woman that seizes every opportunity and relies only on herself for happiness. I was brought up on this lesson by my incredible mother, and I am so thankful for it. I may not always live by it, but in the end I fall back on it.
I’ve had many boyfriends, I mean MANY. Ever since middle school there was a new boy every two weeks to a month, and that continued through high school and then subsided a bit in college, but there was always a boy. I was “boy crazy,” as we would call it in high school. Most of them I brought home and none of them would stick. I was a heart breaker, always breaking hearts and being the one to do the walking. I never really realized this pattern until my dad made some sort of snide comment on it, something along the lines of “another one?” And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I guess I can say I was the Taylor Swift of my day. But even then, it’s nobody else’s business but my own.
My first heart break was in college, and so was my first serious relationship. He was a good friend of mine and I fell hard as a freshman; I called my dad crying. A few more dates that went nowhere and some casual sex later, I had found myself in another relationship sophomore year. This one stuck for ten months, and still my longest standing record to date…
It was comfortable, we were adventurous and active together, sort of a power couple at school. He was great at his academics and was likeable, except by my friends (I found out after the fact). I was ambitious— I worked three jobs on campus, I was heavily involved in the School of Business at the time, I accepted a spring semester Co-Op, I pledged into a business fraternity, and I juggled a boyfriend, a social life, and an average of five hours of sleep per night— I was not what he signed up for. The sad part was that I did not realize at the time that my achievements and hard work were only nuances to him. “We” continued to work through our relationship that semester.
He broke up with me on Christmas morning, after having spent all Christmas Eve with his family. Less than a week later, I moved to New Jersey to start my ground breaking Co-Op as a Sophomore with Johnson & Johnson.
We kept in touch. We got back together. And I swore things were fine and that this was it. Four months later, he graduated and accepted a job with a successful company out of state, good for him. We celebrated. He called me up on the phone the night before moving and ended it; I cried, but I never looked back. That was the lesson I learned and still live by, not looking back. And I haven't looked back since.
Some more benign dates, several hook-ups that went nowhere, and maybe one or two not-so-serious relationships later, I found myself falling for another one. It felt like fate to me. Even my friends could hear the wedding bells, they swore we were the perfect match. It was a good month, but everyone has their reasons, or their demons. And in this case that demon was an ex. I couldn’t, and will never hold it against him, because he became a dear friend.
I’ve realized that there are only a handful of exes that I don’t keep in touch with. And he was of no exception. We started a habit of meeting and keeping in touch over monthly coffee dates, which continued over the course of the next year, but all things come to an end. I’ve had four successful ex boyfriends get married and start new beautiful lives these past two years. But, this one I can’t help but look back on.
I met a guy that following summer, go figure. We had quite a few commonalities and we moved fast into the relationship. It was comfortable, again. We were long distance from the start and the miles were only going to grow because I had just accepted an Internship in Washington with Amazon. Now, the next lesson came as a surprise. I always brushed off his little comments aimed to make me feel guilty about moving. He tried to be cute and would hug my waist, look at me with big ole puppy dog eyes and would beg me not to go, not to go through with it, “don’t leave, pretty please.” They were meant to be cute, but they cut deep. And they did not stop the whole duration of my internship. He bought an expensive ticket to Washington. We spent the weekend in Vancouver—this isn’t something you do with just any boy. I moved back home a month later, and our relationship continued as per usual.
A month later I was greeted early morning with a job offer from Amazon! I texted him that day and told him my hard work paid off. My location was undisclosed but we both knew that it was not going be anywhere near Western New York. It was that same day that he decided for the both of us that this relationship was over by never replying back. He vanished. I know he is still alive and well because I see pictures online of him and his new girlfriend. They’ve both just recently graduated college together, good for them. I haven’t looked back.
It's been a year since I’ve committed to myself. It’s been lonely sometimes, but since then I have never had to compromise my own happiness for someone else’s. It’s hard watching my closest friends settle down, many getting engaged or moving in with their partners. I feel so much for them that I can’t help but be a bit envious of what they have.
I’ve been recently traveling through Southeast Asia, meeting new friends, furthering my studies, talking to different men, and learning about the world outside of my small hamlet. While I was out doing all that I received a message out of the blue. It was a nice message, one that I needed to hear:
“I just wanted you to know that I believe I seriously missed out on a big opportunity because seeing how well you're doing and how well rounded you are and thinking of how good you were to me… For whatever it's worth, I wanted you to know.”
It wasn’t until then that I realized, I was the one that got away.
