It was about time I wrote a post with a little more content than alcohol addiction or porno-shows.
So here it is, honest and too revealing. Try not to cry, I have that effect on people.
Tell me you won’t always love your first love and I’ll tell you you’re lying. If you really feel that way, that person wasn’t your first love. Sorry, tough love.
I’m sitting here, thousands of miles away from my home town thinking about a guy I loved years ago, hating myself for it nonetheless. Oddly enough, he traveled to South America recently too, as if I needed that to remind me of his existence when sappy love songs monopolize my iTunes library. Consequently, once the past is far behind us and life reminds us of things like first loves and relationships and suddenly the good outweighs the bad… when the reason you broke up was because the bad was outweighing the good. It’s a dangerous spot to be in, and I strongly advise against rereading old notes and looking through pictures. Put the goggles of reality on and come back to the present. Obviously I take my own advice, so I’ve had my “reality goggles” in place for a while, and am going about my life in its usual irresponsible, spontaneous way, and loving it, might I add. But at some point, the goggles come off. (DUN, DUN, DUN!)
It seems like every time something big changes, I want to cling to the past, something safe and unchanging when the rest of my world is completely out of my control. I can landmark these events for you: 1) going to college, 2) returning home, 3) leaving the country, and I’m sure there will be more. But this time seemed different. I’m a different girl than I was when I fell in love for the first time, and I know now that I’m strong enough to be in an environment out of my control, and quite frankly, not need a boyfriend to lean on and tell me I’m going to be okay, because in fact, I was always okay, and I always will be.
Glutton for punishment though, sometimes we just have to know for sure, to really get that pestering idea out of our obsessive brains. So, for the fifty millionth time, I contact him, but with a totally different approach. I don’t know if I was convincing myself that I needed to be his friend to feel good about our shitty break up or if I actually wanted more from him. Haha, this is where it gets interesting. After finally talking to this guy, who held my heart for so long, I needed him to be in control, and be the one to say, “no, we can’t do that, we can’t be together.” He’s super go-wirh-the-flow, and I tend to be the talker in any situation, but this time I gave it up. I’m not a vulnerable girl in the slightest but I knew in order to absolve any doubts, it had to be all or nothing. So I gave it all, and he wanted nothing. In truth, I’ve never respected him more.
Part of me didn’t want to end up doing what my girlfriends do over coffee years later: reminiscing about their first “real” boyfriend and wondering if they should still be together. I hate the idea of that being me, and for a second there, it might have been. I’m truly relieved to at least have a decision, some closure, and be able to get on with my life, and not in the I’m-in-denial-and-still-hate-my-ex kind of way. In the I-will-never-forget-you/love-what-we-had kind of way. I might vomit real quick as this is all getting a little mushy… regardless, I ask myself, whats the point of me writing this? To assure myself that this doesn’t hurt? I don’t think so. I think its to remind myself, and I guess remind all of you, that I’m a strong fucking girl (haha that comment is mostly for me to enjoy). Cliche as it is, I feel like a weight has been lifted. If this happened to me a year ago, I would have curled around the cold porcelain I knew all too well, clutching a tub of ice-cream and a seltzer water, and pitying myself until my eyes blurred over. But yesterday, I got myself an iced coffee, bought a tanning package and leggings, ran my heart out on the treadmill, and for the first time in a long time, slept blissfully and dreamlessly. Of that I am proud. Proud that no one controls me, no one can make me cry.
And so it’s finally over. The past is in the past, and that is where it will stay. I sit here this morning with a smile on my face, knowing that this is the perfect place for me to be right now. Because here, in Argentina, there’s no other option: it’s a big fucking city and no one gives a shit if you fall apart. So, now, like I did for the 17 years before I knew him, I will be my own person again. Independent, controlling, stubborn, assertive (lots of other less flattering things too). Before my best friend was my best friend she told me “You never seem like you need a guy.” Who would’ve thought that six years later, her comment would still resonate with me. I know that I don’t need a boyfriend now, it’s a nice-to-have, cuddle-with-me thing, but it’s not something that will take away your problems and make your life everything you ever hoped it would be. That one is all on you.
Best of luck doing the same ❤