It was the time in my life where I hadn’t wanted to meet anyone new, especially because it was just a few months before I was heading to college. I figured there was no point, because if I was going to try to do a long distance relationship I would want it with someone who I had been with for a while. I felt strong, confident because I was in the best shape of my life. Toward the end of last summer, however, how I felt about not having a boyfriend started to change. I think everyone goes through that little funk, where you’re lonely and crave that hand to hold or that person to sleep next to at night. So I decided to start swiping, you know, the whole Tinder and POF (Plenty of Fish) regime. After a couple weeks of various left and right swipes, a few no of no go’s, and some dead end dates I was at my wit's end. So I gave up, left it up to the universe, and somehow as soon as I did that something magically happened.

I had read his POF profile, and everything about him intrigued me. It was almost as if he was made for me. We were interested in a lot of the same things. I wanted adventure and he was spontaneous. I guess you could say that he had me as soon as he said, “We should get breakfast sometime.” Something about an invitation to breakfast was so inviting, it was something I’ve never heard before, and I loved the idea of getting to know him with a stack of pancakes between us. Getting breakfast was definitely the pull, but we didn’t meet that way, breakfast would come later but it was actually over a root beer float that started us off.

An initially awkward (but cute) first date that escalated into a blossoming romance. He took me to a lock bridge, and made me laugh with a couple funny stories, pulled me close, and held my hand. I was terribly nervous when I met him, and he could tell so he kissed me to let me know that everything was all right. It didn’t work, but I knew for sure that he liked me. I also knew that I needed to see him again. I did, over and over again, and I had no problem running to him. I gladly ran to him. We were adventurous together, it was something that I had always wanted with someone, and finally got. There was no feeling like being with him, I felt like I had transcended, a type of high that was like no other and have never felt with anyone else since.

It was in that high, addictive feeling, that I blindly gave all of myself to him. To have that hand to hold, and someone to cuddle with through the night. To have those piercing blue eyes see me, because for the first time I felt like someone saw me, really saw me. To have the thrill of this romance, I would do anything to keep it alive, keep it close. I snuck out to see him, I lied to see him, risked a lot just for at least thirty minutes with him, and for the need to fill that lifelong craving. For that feeling I was willing to do long distance with him, and did exactly what I said I wouldn’t. We had only really known each other for a month, but based off that feeling alone, I wanted it. I couldn’t bear to part with that feeling, so I decided that I wouldn’t. We had, “the talk”, and decided to be exclusive.

When I went, it was hard, it was like going through withdrawal. I had gone from spending almost every day with him to having to wait weeks at a time to see each other. Admittedly I was terrified to do this. I felt my intuition going crazy. It was like something about this relationship seemed solid in theory, but there was something telling me that this might not go well. Perhaps I should’ve listened because it’s usually not wrong, but I wanted it to be okay so I made myself believe that it would be.

A couple of weeks in and we had already hit some snags. I started classes, and made new friends. My schedule started to change, and it became difficult to make time to talk. He started to asking me if I loved him, and for me I had always been quick to just say I love you back (quick as in two days to two weeks in), and this time I really wanted to wait until I knew for sure that I felt it. However, when I gave my initial answer of, “I don’t know that yet, I just know that I have very strong feelings for you.” He seemed less than displeased. I remember his response to that being, “Well how can you be in a relationship with someone if you don’t love them?” I felt like he was questioning whether I really wanted to be with him or not so out of fear of creating any problems I told him I loved him. I suppose that’s where it started, the downhill of it all.

As I started to get more invested in my new college life, the more concerns he had about our relationship. He would say things to me like, “You live too far away, and I hate it.” and “I’m starting to like this less and less.” I always felt like he was about to break up with me, but when I would ask he would act like I was crazy for even suggesting. At some point he decided he didn’t want to call himself my boyfriend anymore, because he no longer knew whether he would be able to handle the long term commitment, but still we would remain exclusive and continue to just be a couple without a title.

It didn’t help when I told my parents that I was seeing someone...and they weren’t too pleased that I was seeing someone for almost three months who they’d never met and was older. They wanted to meet him in order for me to be able to see him again, but he felt “uncomfortable” and didn’t want to, knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing me until he did. I was starting to lose it and became very unhappy, but still remained determined to hold on. Despite my devotion, things continued to get progressively worse. He didn’t want me to go out, he started questioning who I was hanging out with and where I was going. I became a slave to my dorm room out of fear of him thinking I was doing something I wasn’t. I started stressing out and coped with eating and constant sleeping, which resulted in my grades dropping to terrifying depths and a forty pound weight gain. Everyone who talked to me about it advised me to get out of the relationship, because it became very obvious how badly it was destroying me. I knew they were right, but I was just hopelessly fighting for that feeling of being with him that had honestly dissipated long ago.

The final kicker was when he thought he had discovered me cheating - I couldn’t believe it. He dumped me, and I shattered into a million pieces. I felt I had done everything but give blood for him. I had appeased every threat, stayed in my room, away from everyone, chose to not make friends, pushed other friends away, got into arguments with my parents, lost who I was and it felt like it was all for nothing now. Although, I couldn’t help but feel kind of relieved. The pressure and fear that constantly surrounded me had lifted. I could relax, but it didn’t release me from the addiction that was still very much there. Over the next couple months until the January of the new year, I went back to him time and time again. I willingly chased a dead romance and repeatedly found nothing but more pain. It wasn’t until I let him completely break me down, emotionally and somewhat physically that did I decided I needed to stop. I came to terms with the fact that it would never be what it was in the beginning, and I had to let him go.

We haven’t spoken since. It’s been a year now since we’ve met, and I can admit I’ve been thinking about him. I’m not angry anymore. I don’t beat myself up over wanting him. I no longer regret that it happened. I regret going back to him, but not that I met him. I’m happy that I got to experience that intense feeling of young love. I’d never take that back. I also learned so much from being with him. I’d say it was a wake-up call for me, because I wasn’t the same after him. I don’t think I could ever be who I was before, although I’m happy for the chance to start over. I realized, I deserved more. I deserved someone who would respect me, support me, uplift me, encourage me, and be my partner not my dictator. I have so much heart to give, and I want to save it for someone who I’m certain will value it.