Fool For Love: All About Me

I got put on blast by my last Fool for Love victim. He told me that it’s one thing to put someone else’s mistakes out there for people to pick apart and dissect, but it’s quite another matter when it’s you in the hot seat. I am forced (not really forced, as I was going to do it anyway, but whatever) to air my dirty laundry for the delectation of the masses. So many stories, where does one begin?

I am a fool for love. I’ll admit it. I’m not proud, but I’m not ashamed, either. It’s experience that shapes and molds you into the person that you are today. So, I may as well start at the beginning.

His name was Anthony. He was my one true love. He is the guy that I compare all guys to, even to this day. He was shy, skinny, wore glasses, liked to lift weights and was absolutely crazy about me. I was rounded (but not fat yet), outgoing, liked to read and party and was absolutely ape shit over him. He was my perfect man. He was smart, he was funny, he was romantic and he was the first guy that made me feel like I was the center of his world. I definitely made him the center of mine. We were always laughing, always touching, always finishing each other’s sentences.

We were inseparable. We went to school together, we worked together and, at one point, we lived together. Too much togetherness is not always a good thing. I was insecure and was loathe to let him out of my sight. He was insecure and jealous and he had to know where I was every single second of the day. His mother couldn’t stand me and my mother couldn’t stand him, the feeling was mutual and they couldn’t stand each other to boot. His mom thought my mom was too emotional and my mom thought his was too cold and clinical.

We were Romeo and Juliet up against the world. We were young. I cringe now at how fast we jumped into everything, but we were in love and naively thought that love was enough. I loved him enough to move out of my mother’s house and in with him, even though I knew it was a sin in my religion. I loved him enough to turn my back on all my religious training and to turn my back on God. I loved him enough to give up my full scholarship to Harvard because he couldn’t bear to see me leave and I couldn’t bear to be without him. I loved him enough compromise who I was and what I stood for, but he didn’t love me enough to stick it out when he had to make similar sacrifices. We broke up right before Thanksgiving one year (which started my Thanksgiving Curse, but that’s another tale for another day) and my parents had me on suicide watch because they were convinced I would die without him and they had good reason to worry.

We broke up, made up, fought like Bobby and Whitney and made up like Travis and Shanna. We fell in love. It was love, young, stupid, wildly out of control, but it was love. Jealousy and insecurity ultimately led to our demise, that, and the death of our daughter. It’s been over a decade and part of me still loves him and epitomizes him as the quintessential first love and he told me that he feels the same. It’s one of those situations where you know you’re destructive for each other and that it’s best if you’re not together, but part of you wishes that it could have worked out all the same.

He taught me so much about relationships and about me as a person. I learned that trust is key and, if you don’t have it, you might as well hang it up, because it’s never going to work. I learned to value the Big Three: no lying, no cheating, and no hitting. I learned that you could have your heart’s desire taken away and still manage to move on. I learned that you can open your heart to someone and want to be around them, but you have to have your own interests, your own life outside that person, or else you’ll suffocate each other or lose yourself.

I’m still a hopeless romantic. I still haven’t been put off of love. I haven’t become jaded. I still think that there is someone out there for everyone, you just have to be receptive when they show up. Feel free to speak honestly and tell me what you think. I’m a big girl; I can take it. I know I’m love’s bitch, but at least I’m honest enough to admit it.

Edited: July 20th, 2008