30 Day Challenge: Day 3

Day 3: Your First Love

It was my second day of college. I knew he was going to be there- I'd been told by my mother and his father that we would have a class together. That he was going to Darton until he could get HOPE and transfer to Georgia Tech, because he always wanted to be an engineer.

Honestly, I didn't really think it was a big deal. I would meet him, I knew some of his family, so maybe we would be kind of friends. When I saw a glimpse of him that day, I immediately knew it was him. Still didn't really think much about it. Or him.

That was the first day of that class. The second day, everything changed. I got there early enough to sit near the back of the class. He was in front of me. I still remember that he was wearing his worn in Tech hat and light jeans with a few holes in them. And his hair- oh that hair. A beautiful, curly mess coming out from the edges of the hat. A huge smile on his face- although I don't remember what put it there. I thought, "I'm going to marry him one day." Something about him was just perfect to me.

For a while, I didn't talk to him. I had been burned in the past, and didn't want it to happen again. I tried to talk him once during class, to get him to be my partner for an assignment, but he didn't answer me. Later, he claimed he hadn't heard me- which made complete sense after actually knowing him and his awful hearing/remembering. I had a long break between classes, and I spent it wandering around campus or sitting under the trees. Little did I know he had the same break and did the same thing! I would often see him when we walked out to our cars after class to switch our books- always walking at the same time, near the same place, but never really speaking.

I honestly don't remember how it began. It was like as soon as we spoke once, we were talking all the time. We started walking to our cars together, spending our breaks together, even going to eat lunch together. I still remember that first lunch- it was at sunset grille, one of my favorite places to eat at the time. I got a french dip, and he got a philly cheesesteak. Ironically, he only ate about half his sandwich. I didn't think it was odd at the time. (Later on I learned he eats more food than anyone else I know and was "too nervous" to eat his meal that day."

That lunch was just the beginning. We ate lunch together all the time. We started talking on the phone- first about "class" stuff, but eventually we dropped that facade. I wasn't entirely sure he was interested in me, though. I think I realized it when I was at Foodstock before my rehearsal. He wasn't coming- he had gone home for the day. I didn't expect to see him, but there he was, with a new hair cut to boot! He had come all the way back, just to see me for a couple hours.

He claims our first date was to the movies. Facing the Giants, a movie I was in, was coming to theaters. We were discussing it and decided to go. I, of course, bought a new shirt to wear. I didn't know if it was a date- he said I should have know. What I DO know is that I felt the awkward "do I put the armrest down or not?!" moment. Then we went to steak 'n' shake! Yum.

That semester, I was in a show. He came pretty much every night. He met my parents. On the last night, we were leaned up against his car, about to go eat somewhere. We had actually discussed that week why he hadn't asked me out yet! I don't remember all the details, but that night he asked me to be his girlfriend.

That night paved the road for the next three years of my life. He and I became inseparable. We both stayed at Darton until May 2008. We had a difficult summer in 2007 when he left for an internship in Florida. I cried as I drove away from him the day I moved to Athens. He kissed my forehead, told me he loved me, and let me go. The next day, he moved to Atlanta.

The next few months were some of the most difficult in my life so far. I was away from him, away from my family, and I felt very alone. He didn't have a car, so he rode the bus to come see me. I drove to see him. I cried to him about how miserable I was, and he told me "You just have to last two years. Then we'll be together and I'll take care of you." Those were some of the sweetest words I'd ever heard.

When our first year apart was over, I thought it would be wonderful to be back home together. And it was, to some extent. But it was also full of ridiculous fights that never should have happened. Looking back on it, there are so many things I would have done differently.

That summer he did something I begged him not to do: he bought a motorcycle. You have to understand that while a lot of people thing they are cool, I see them as death traps and the reason why my uncle can't walk. I was terrified of him hurting himself. He didn't listen, and bought one anyway. While I hated the fact that he had one, I loved the idea of him being able to come visit me whenever he could. I loved the idea of me not having to drive all the way to Atlanta. It worked for quite some time.

Because of this motorcycle, he was able to do one of the most romantic things he ever did through the entirety of our relationship. I love romantic gestures, and for our three year anniversary, he got it exactly right. It was a Wednesday. We had seen each other the weekend before, and he was coming for us to celebrate the weekend after the actual day. What I didn't count on or suspect was him driving to Athens just to give me a dozen red roses. He found out where I was parked, talked back and forth to my best friend to find out where I was (because I messed up his plan by not leaving campus), and was all of a sudden there in front of me. I was so moved and surprised that I almost cried. I was so happy to see him- so happy he did something like that just for me. I just knew he loved me. I couldn't wait to be done with school and move on to the next phase in our lives and actually live in the same city.

Spring semester of my senior year was a difficult one. I was stressed out, trying to figure out what to do after graduation. I didn't know if I wanted to go to grad school, move to Atlanta, move back home....I didn't know anything other than I wanted to be with him. I decided going back to grad school would be the best decision: it was something I'd always wanted to do and it would keep me fairly close to him during his last year of school. I studied for the GRE that I was taking over spring break, and was pretty nervous I wasn't going to do well. I went to see him the first weekend of spring break, before I took the test that Monday. He helped me with the math I had forgotten, drove me to an interview for a summer internship in Buckhead, filled my car up with gas while I was in the interview, then took me on an incredibly wonderful picnic at a park. We ate sandwiches, chips, and took pictures. And I studied for the GRE! There are pictures on facebook if you don't believe me. The next day I got in my car outside his apartment to go home. He kissed me, told me he loved me, and we said goodbye. I drove away.

I haven't seen him since.

Three weeks later, he broke up with me before my next weekend visit. It was Good Friday. I honestly don't know what happened. Many people have asked me in the past seven months. I try to gloss over and tell them enough to appease them, but there is really no answer because I don't have any idea what happened. I thought we were happy. I thought he loved me. In fact, he did many many things that I just didn't believe you would do if you didn't love someone.

Seven months later, I still have no answers. I don't really care to have them. We haven't spoken or seen each other since that day. And every day is difficult. Every day I wake up and deal with the fact that he is no longer here and I have lost one of my best friends and the person I love more than anyone else. The person I thought I was going to marry, grow old with, laugh with, do everything with.

It is hard. Every day is challenging. But I am surviving. I am even thriving. I have made more friends and learned more about myself in the past seven months than in my last two years of college.

My first love. It's a beautiful memory. It's a tragic mess. It's a heartbreaker.