Changeable.net

Ghosts of boyfriends past.

Oh, #7. Where do I begin with you?

Once upon a time,
You were an amazing man.
I felt so fortunate to be with you.
I loved you.
I learned so many important things through our relationship. The relationship brought a lot of good into my life. I don’t even know where to begin.

Through our relationship, I battled insecurities that were set in deep beneath my surface. I gained confidence. I learned that I was worth being loved. Paragraphs and paragraphs could be written about this… and they already exist in the archives of this website as well as old journals. You brought a lot of good to my life and I thank you for that.

I loved your family. I loved your friends.
And as luck would have it… they loved us together.
We were a hit.
We were bestowed the title of “favorite couple” many times by many people in different circles of friends. I loved that we were not an annoying couple to be around and took pride in that.

I went to Panama with you.
I went to Northern California, Nevada, Utah, Texas, Wisconsin, and Florida with you.

You taught me how to snowboard… and put up with the tears until I got decent at it.

Our families joined together for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.

It was good. A very happy 3 years (or at least, a happy 2.5 years).

We were great together when we were both directionless undergrads trying to figure life out. Those early 20′s were a time of exploration as we figured out who we would be as we grew and matured. Turns out that no matter how much love there was or how much fun we had… we’d matured into different people, seeking after different things in life. No longer a good fit. Also, I guess you never quite got over the feeling that you were settling for me. Once that’s in a person’s mind, is there really any hope for the relationship?

The heartache that I experienced during the year of long distance, especially as the relationship ended, was unreal. But you know what? Break-ups are painful and there’s just no way around that. Your heart breaks, but you heal. You move on.

So, I don’t hold the fact that our relationship ended against you.
Sometimes, break-ups are inevitable and I get that.

What I do hold against you is the way you handled the aftermath. You handled things poorly and immaturely. I did nothing to deserve that. I expected more from you and so did everybody else.

Life goes on though. And life has been good recently. Plenty of hard moments, but plenty of growth, and plenty of good.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from writing this blog series it’s that these issues that seem like such a HUGE deal at the time… eventually end up being just a faint memory. Will we eventually be friends again? I’m not sure (and hey, that’s only 50% my decision). Goodness knows you were a great friend before we ever got together. For now, I can say this: I hope that in the future, I’ll look back on our relationship and smile at the good, as I now do with some of the other boys I wrote about.

I guess that time will tell.

Ghosts of boyfriends past.

You never should have happened.

Every negative stereotype I’ve ever heard about frat boys and frat houses, I found to be true through my experiences with you (down to the lack of toilet paper in your house).

Your frat parties sucked.

And so did you.

I went to the big UCLA vs. USC football game with you. Some girl from your past kissed you right in front of me.
At first I was angry at her and at you.
Then I realized I was apathetic about it all, because I did not actually care about you.
Then I was LIVID with myself for giving you the time of day in the first place.

You, #6, are the face I associate with the Fall of 2007. I can’t believe I wasted an Autumn on you.

In the end, those days are long ago. I don’t shudder anymore. I don’t get that pit in the bottom of my stomach anymore. I just don’t care anymore.

This does not mean I am in any rush to see you.

I actually did see you at a soccer game that I went to about a year ago, with #7 and friends: Real Madrid vs. LA Galaxy. I cannot TELL you how hard I tried to avoid you that night.

Deuces.

Ghosts of boyfriends past.

I met you in Spanish class in my sophomore year of college.

I would crack up at the random things you did. Before we ever dated, I appreciated you because I felt like we understood each other.

I think that dating you was key in terms of me kind of sorting out my ethnic identity. No, you weren’t half Guatemalan and half Caucasian, but you were the first/only Latino male I ever dated. Furthermore, you were the first (but thankfully, not the only) Latino male who met me where I was at in terms of my intellect, interests, and humor. Dating you was important to helping me work through some issues that I didn’t even know existed.

Dating you was also key to helping me figure out some things spiritually. I was raised in a very Evangelical Christian setting and I think you gently challenged a lot of my thoughts in terms of what it actually meant to follow Jesus. I think (but I’m not sure) that we may have both had that effect on each other.

I wasn’t at a point yet where I was ready to let myself fall in love (I didn’t think I deserved it). I cannot say that I loved you; I was, however… crazy for you. Once it came to an end, this was a hard break-up for me. I lost 10 pounds and spent many nights literally crying myself to sleep. I really liked you. You broke my heart.

I’m thankful for it. I was 19 and I swore I wanted to be married by 20 at the latest (21 if absolutely necessary). I can’t say I blame you for being 20 and not wanting to go that route, and again… I am thankful for it. It’s a REALLY good thing that I did not get married (in general, not just you) by 21, I’m sure anybody would agree. I would not have gone to UCLA. I would not have gone into teaching. I would not have my Master’s. I would not be where I am in my career.

You tried to contact me a handful of times in the 6 years since then, and I was always very mean toward your kind gestures. I held it against you that you broke my heart. At some point, I figured out the whole “it’s a good thing he broke my heart when he did” situation, so I don’t hold it against you anymore.

We hung out recently. We’ve both changed a lot. It was fun to see just who you’ve grown to be.

Ghosts of boyfriends past.

Somewhere in between the different times that #3 and I were together, you, #4, happened to me. You weren’t a boyfriend, but you were my first date.

I don’t know why, but I decided one day that I was very into you. You had awkward orange hair at the time, which was perfect because I was going through a very awkward pop-punk phase. My interests involved dickies, band t-shirts, safety pins, patches, and converse. You shared my love for New Found Glory.

I went to watch your wrestling match one Saturday morning. I got hit on by a person from the opposing school, a moment that was significant in that it was the first time somebody tried to holla’ haha. You kind of talked to me that day, but not too much.

Eventually, you gave in and took me to the movies. Or rather, I took you to the movies, because you didn’t drive yet. You paid and we tried watching Cheaper by the Dozen 2. The fabulous movie was interrupted by my mom calling and telling me I had to go home, so we called it a night and went to watch Hilary Duff’s greatest the following week.

I wasn’t feeling it anymore.

I dropped you off, you tried to kiss me, but kissed my ear instead. You called yourself a loser, walked out of the car, and that was that.

Ghosts of boyfriends past

You were my best friend’s brother and my first real boyfriend. We dated three separate times.

It was the Summer after 8th grade and I was about to start high school. You still had one more year of middle school left to go. Once classes began, the school bus would drop you off by my house and you would wait at my house to be picked up by your parents. You would leave me notes and flowers you picked from my parents’ garden. You rode your bike to my house one day and I thought it was the sweetest thing. We went to Wild Rivers together. One day I got bored and wrote your sister a note during church saying I wanted to break up. You found the note. I got a letter in the mail a few days later saying you thought it would be best if we went our separate ways. I was relieved.

The second time I was 15 and it was more typical of a high school relationship. We would talk on MSN messenger when we were bored with nothing to do. You bought me Roxy and Billabong clothes for Christmas and that was my tip-off that you were interested in me again. You kissed me in the back of your dad’s van after a day spent at Castaic lake. We would go on dates to the movies together and would be dropped off by our parents because we couldn’t drive yet. Our relationship was very cute. The problem was I was dealing with guilt issues and felt like I didn’t deserve to be in a relationship. The relationship ended and we kept our distance for a bit more time.

The last time, I was finishing off high school. You took me to my prom where we danced to Kelly Clarkson. Armed with drivers licenses and vehicles, and we would go off to Hollywood and explore the Sunset Strip together, shopping at Amoeba and feeling so cool. I worked at Cold Stone and you worked at Baskin Robbins. We would sometimes match our clothes, you in plaid shorts, me in a plaid skirt. Beyond cute, haha down-right sickening.

I was becoming more independent in my first year of college and you were angry at me for having to spend time studying and for making plans that did not involve you. An important step in my personal growth and development was when I planned and executed my first big trip. If you haven’t noticed… I love to travel. This is the trip that started it all, and the voyage almost didn’t happen because of your objections. Off to New York I went, ready to bring in the year 2005. You were angry that I couldn’t talk to you on the phone for an extended period of time. What can I say? After putting every hard earned, carpel-tunnel-causing cent earned at Cold Stone toward airfare and a cheap Newark hotel, I couldn’t afford the 50 cents a minute to talk to you. I ate McDonalds for every meal, for goodness sake.

While on the topic of Cold Stone and McDonalds… I found out from a friend that you blogged about me being fat (when I weighed a solid 125 pounds). Clearly, the honeymoon was over.

I didn’t have the guts to break up with you so we “took a break” for a month first. The end of our relationship was not pretty, but I won’t get into that here, because I do have respect for you.

These days, I do not know much about you other than… you finished college, you are athletic, and you are engaged. I do not know much about you or your fiance, but I do see you occasionally and I know you two sure seem happy. You are probably the only ex-boyfriend who I absolutely expect to always have in my life (to some tiny extent), since I am still very good friends with your sister.

You were a great first boyfriend… until you weren’t anymore. I’m glad that you’ve found somebody who is right for you.

I wish you the best. Please note, I do not say this to all boys from my past.

Ghosts of boyfriends past

You weren’t actually a boyfriend. But man, you caused some drama in my young life.

You chose to go to my ghetto middle school to be near me rather than going to your fancy middle school on your side of town.

I didn’t like you.
And then I did.
And then I didn’t.

And then you had a girlfriend.
And that was cool.

And then I liked you.
And then I didn’t.

And then you broke up with her, thinking you and I would get together.
And then we didn’t.

And then everybody from our ghetto middle school was threatening to beat me up because I had “stolen that girl’s man.”

And that sucked.

What more can I say? The effect you had on the lives of friends who you went on to date is the stuff to fill many notebooks, but as for your impact on me, we’ll keep your story short (if not sweet).

You’re married now. And that’s that.

P.S. I went on to see her your ex-girlfriend at cross country meets throughout all of high school and then at UCLA too. It was awkward EVERY SINGLE DAMN TIME, even a decade later.

I wonder how many boys from my past read this blog, considering all of them, at some point, used to read it.

Though I have drafts written for boys #2-5 (of at least 8), I might not have the guts to go all out and post them in their entirety.

No, don’t worry, I’m not flattering myself and assuming all (or even most) still do. I’m just curious.

We’ll see how ballsy I truly am as the week progresses.

Ghosts of boyfriends past…

I was twelve years old.

My friends were all getting boyfriends and I decided I wanted to join in.
One of my friends was dating my #3 (another post for another time), and #3 had a friend who was interested in me. That friend was you.

You were only in 6th grade. You were smart but I did not actually find myself attracted to you.

Through a carefully orchestrated (and overly complicated) 3-way conference call, you quickly asked me out, and you became the first person to ever be called “boyfriend.” My bad.

Do I ever count you when I’m telling friends about past boyfriends? No. But you happened. You put your arm around my shoulder, smiled and said “I KNOW!” when boys teased that “Esther likes you!” Even though I was embarrassed, I secretly thought it was sweet.

We broke up one week later.

Oh, 7th grade.