My First - Part 2
I believe we dated for a year or so and damn did I love that guy. I think every first relationship is a learning process because you’re not only learning about your partner but you’re also learning about yourself. This particular connection taught me that in order to receive romance, tenderness, adoration and love it must come at a cost to my emotional wellbeing. In order for me to be treated with the intent of love, I must first be deceived, rejected, cheated on and disrespected.
I constantly felt like I had to babysit him because he was reckless. He drank too much, did drugs too often and acted like he was without a care in the world. Taking the time to write about him now, all I can see is an 18 year old boy who had no one.
He was “that guy” who didn't give a fuck about what he did or who he hurt. He was always the life of the party, always smiling and doing stupid things to make other people laugh. I see him, now that I am older, as a boy who just wanted to be wanted. He wanted to be validated so badly by his peers and, in order to accomplish that, he served himself up on a silver platter for the entertainment of others.
His mother and father were not fully present in his life and every time I went to his house, he was always greeted with hostility, criticism and countless insults. Authority figures in his life consisted of the police with which he had interactions and teachers at school. A few of these were on his side, thankfully.
I traveled to Europe for 3 weeks during our relationship and didn’t have the means of communication, besides internet cafes or pre-paid phone calls, so we didn’t get to talk as much as usual.
Towards the last week of my travels, he disclosed over the phone that something happened at his grad camping party. My heart sunk and retracted inwards, preparing itself for another form of betrayal by a man, and began to construct yet another wall to build around its entirety.
“It was just a kiss! I was high on Ecstasy so it doesn't really count”. It may have just been a euphoric high while on the “love drug”, but to me it was the second encounter of disloyalty and duplicity in my life.
It absolutely crushed me. Maybe it wasn't this specific instance that broke my heart, but rather, a combination of feelings brought up from my childhood. Maybe it's because I could finally blame someone for the resentment and abandonment I carried. I could finally pour those feelings onto this specific apprehension.
My body went into a state of grief and I spent the last week of my travels unable to get out of bed. I would replay some imaginary scenario in my head of him loving this person he kissed. Laughing and smiling with her, instead of me and I can still detect that feeling in my body right now as I type.
My mind would paint this picture of him being happier without me and this triggered me. I couldn't lose him so I will continue to conceal these feelings and ignore my needs because I needed to be loved and it had to be him, because if not him, then who?