Meeting
him was an accident. I had heard about him
quite a lot in middle school, but had never actually spoken with
him. He had been part of the "popular" crowd, which I
had never even wanted to associate myself with. Sure, everyone
wanted to be them, but it wasn't worth it to hurt others in
the process. And, honestly, I didn't find them all
that interesting. All they really did was trade of who was
with who, and those are not the kinds of relationships I was
looking for.
Freshman year was a different story. We ended up having World
Geography together. And, lucky me, my assigned seat was directly
in front of his. I couldn't help but notice how attractive he
was, and every chance I got, I would turn around and talk to him.
It wasn't that I liked him, he just seemed nice, and
different than I had assumed. We talked the entire year, and
ended up hanging out quite a bit, but only outside of school.
What little relationship we had formed lasted all through the
summer and up to our sophomore year.
Over the school year I had fallen for him, but
decided that I had waited around long enough. If he wanted me in
his life as more than a friend, he would have made some sort of
an effort. Being "just friends" was much too painful
for me. I cut off all communication with him, thinking it was for
the best.
He came after me. He wouldn't leave me alone, and always told
me how much I meant to him, and how he loved our friendship.
Eventually he told me he wanted us to be more than that. I also
confessed how I felt, and it seemed like things just couldn't
get any better. But he still wouldn't ask me out. It hurt me
so badly, and I wondered exactly how much more of this I could
take.
Finally, we made things official, and he became my first
boyfriend. He gave me my first kiss, and I was the happiest I had
ever been. It's been almost five months since then, and
we're in love and both truly happy.
And that is the beginning of what I hope to be our endless
love story.