To my first fling,

The first time I was dumped was awful. Being a third grader was tough, and adding love to that equation was harder than calculus. We had held hands; that’s what qualified as a serious relationship at the time. No one knew what to do after that, really. And we didn’t need to know. The teacher called us aside in class one day and told us that we shouldn’t be dating at eight years old. He became worried that people would start to talk around the drinking fountain and refused to hold my hand. So we stopped, and I grew up to be a curious little high school freshman.

By this time, I had known many people whose relationships have ended due to changing schools, differing class schedules, and the like. I even witnessed a marriage fall apart. Let me tell you this: if you think that high school is as good as it gets, you’re dead wrong. The “good” bar should continue to raise as you get older. It shouldn’t plateau.

By my senior year, the year I met you, I had been taking French for five years, and I had the opportunity to go to France. I kept telling myself that guys will come and go, and that the good ones will understand when you’re doing something you need to do – but you didn’t. You made celebrating my trip impossible, and that was not okay. You told me "We should just be friends,” because that’s all you ever thought we should have been, anyway. That came as a shock to me, since we had been dating for four months. The best part? This all happened in the airport, and I wasn’t just going out of state. Couldn’t you have chosen a better time? I mean, my professor began to worry that my hand was permanently glued to my phone.

I should have known that you weren’t really interested when the relationship began to feel one-sided. I chose to ignore that fact, and I invited you everywhere. I should have figured it out in the first week when you were constantly "busy." I think you liked the chase more than the real thing. The problem is that you caught me, and at the end I felt tossed aside like a rotten fish – I don’t even like fish! Nothing was reciprocated, and that sucked.

But I’d like to thank you. You taught me that I deserve more than a text a week saying “Hey, beautiful,” and I certainly deserve more than a lie.

I still remember first meeting you. It was like a fairy tale, and I’ll admit that first love will always cut the deepest. I’m not forgetting that anytime soon. You hit all the check marks on my list of "perfect guy traits" that I started creating after the flop in third grade. You were cute, and you even seemed to meet a few requirements from my parents’ list for me. They liked you, you know. And it’s saying something that I even introduced you to them. They can be a little crazy, but they mean well.

I never met your family, and I’ve been realizing that I never met you.

Our love never existed, but it still broke my heart. It’s interesting how love can be unrequited and how the mind will forever play tricks on your heart to make it keep beating. But I know now that I don’t want it to keep beating if the other heart has already stopped.

I know that my life hasn’t plateaued, and I hope that yours hasn’t, either. I’m not upset anymore; I’m disappointed that you let us go, but I’m glad you did. I’ll let Adele do the rest of the talking, or singing. I’ll find someone like you and different from you in many ways. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be moving on, would I? I don’t think I would be “me” without you – so thank you for making me see that I am strong enough to overcome heartbreak, happy enough to endure depression, and crazy enough to want to love again.

Sincerely,

A changed woman.