Tales of the Ex @ RomanceClass -
We exchanged yearbooks at the end of the year

Ignorance is bliss.

There are plenty of guys out there who can relate with me, I'm sure. I was never the most popular guy; sure, I had a lot of great friends and was well liked, and yet, I was never one of the "jocks," the guy that ran the school -- just the sidekick. But, I suppose it's better to be at the edge of the spotlight than not in it at all. I was certainly never the most attractive; I'm not a gargoyle by any means, but let's face it, I'm no "insert MTV flavor of the week here" kinda guy. I was a C student, didn't play sports but went to the games...I was happy. Well, for the most part.

You see, like so many others, I managed to go through high school without date number one. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like I repulsed the ladies or anything. Nah, the thing is, I had seen how so many of my other friends had been hurt in the past, and I figured, what's the point of starting a relationship in high school, when you know it won't last into college? I had never been one of those guys obsessed with getting laid -- not that I would have minded or anything -- and so, it wasn't important to me. However, still, I have my pride, and by my junior year, I was desperate for love, or something close to it.

I thought I had found it.

She was beautiful. Smart. Good sense of humor. And hey, what more could a guy ask for? I knew she was out of my league, but hey, what the hell. I had known her for years, and had never paid much attention to her, until I had gotten to know her the year prior. And now, we talked quite a bit. Suddenly, one day, out of the blue, it hit me: I actually like this girl. A lot.

And so, like a virus, it spread. I became infected with infatuation. It started in August. Before I knew it, it was December. And then, it was May. Looking back, it was a blur. For nearly an entire calendar year, here I sat, and this girl consumed me. It wasn't some kind of psychopathic obsession, mind you -- it was, well, love. Or so I figured, I mean, I had never felt such a thing before, so I wasn't quite sure how to diagnose it. We talked every day, and every day I got just a tad closer to telling her the truth.

She threw out the hints. I'm no flirting expert, but dang, some of the signs seemed rather obvious. I called her one day, and somehow managed to ask her out -- she gave me an excuse, and I should have taken the hint, but I didn't. And so we rolled on, and she continued to act like she was begging me to ask her out. And I continued to prod at it -- to no avail. I could really go into deep detail here, but this was actually so mentally and emotionally devastating for me that I feel kind of ill typing it right now, so I'll spare you. Long story short, one day, I did another one of my prodding at asking her out -- at which point she flat out informed me that she had a boyfriend. This was a shock to me, when you combine her "friendly" nature toward me, plus the fact that she had never mentioned him before.

I often wondered what it was like to have a broken heart. Now, I know.

And that was it...kind of. Now, it was my turn to play the heel. The next day, I was a different man. The butterflies of love that I had felt for so long were gone, replaced by anger. Hate. Betrayal. And a genuine feeling of rejection so strong that I wondered what the point of dating was to begin with.

In hindsight, I wish I hadn't been quite a prick in the ensuing weeks, as she seemed to genuinely regret shooting me down in such a blunt fashion; but, of course, like any headstrong male, I took the cheap route and made every effort to ignore her.

And then, the summer came.

And went.

My senior year was far less dramatic. The girl was in several of my classes, but our conversations were minimal. Because one of her best friends was dating one of my best friends, we were together often -- though, conversations were rare. The irony of this entire story is that for as strong as I felt for her for so long, I never actually told her how I felt. For most of the year we didn't talk much, until the last month of two, when I suppose we both figured that this was the end, and that acknowleding the existence of the other wouldn't hurt any. Graduation came, then college, and, I haven't heard from her since.

However, she did leave me with something. We exchanged yearbooks at the end of the year; I left my generic "have a good summer" spiel that I had given to most everyone besides my closest friends.

Her entry into mine?

Her phone number.

I was supposed to call her.

I never did.

How ironic love can be.


5.00 out of 5 slimes

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