The One Who Got Away….

I was 24. He was 21.

I invited my friend Will to come over and go swimming at my moms house. He was with his uncle, and with his friend from out of town named Jo.

Jo.

We clicked instantly. We spend the afternoon and night cracking jokes, drinking beers, shots, mixed drinks, whatever we could find stashed away in the pool house. He was staying at his fathers in my town for the next three days, then going back to stay at his uncles house in a town about an hour away.  I wrote my number down on the Queen of Hearts from a deck of cards that we had used to play, and hoped to hear from him again.

Jo, Will, Will’s uncle, and myself jumped in the pool, wasted, each holding a different bottle in our hands.  That’s when Jo and I shared our first kiss.  This seemed more intoxicating than all of this liquor combined. I didn’t want him to leave.

I had to work the next day, and when it rounded close to midnight, a cab needed to be called. I asked Jo to stay with me and I’d bring him home in the morning. I didn’t wanna do this, since I really liked this guy, but I was afraid I would never see him again and wanted to take advantage of this situation for whatever it would become.  As the cab drove away with Will and his uncle in the car, Jo and I stripped off our bathing suits and had sex on the couch in the pool house. Good sex. No, great sex. It wasn’t about the physical entirely. This dude got me. I’ve never had anyone look me in the eyes and pierce right into my soul.

Jo and I became inseparable, and the excuses of why he couldn’t go back to his uncles an hour away got longer. Neither one of us wanted to let go. It was a connection I’d never felt or experienced before. He made me want to be a better woman. A better woman that wanted to eventually become a wife. A mother. A partner. A friend.  I still to this day, 7 years later, have no idea what it was that became the centrifugal force between us.

We were together for about a year and a half before we split up. Over stupid stuff. Immature stuff. Insecure stuff. During that break was when I met Don from my prior blog posting.  When I came back from the Dominican Republic, me and Jo linked right back up and picked up right where we left off.

I truly loved this guy. You could see it in our photos, our eyes, our company, everything. This guy did whatever I wanted or needed him to, and I never looked at him like a ‘sucker’ or a pushover. He genuinely wanted me to be happy. We were inseparable. We shared so much. We were best friends. No, MORE than best friends. He came back down to my town and we moved in together. Nothing could have been better. I loved his family, and they loved me. We did so many things together, So many adventures. So much stupid shit, lol!  I love a certain type of flower, and him and I use to dress up like ninjas and go to neighborhoods that we would see these type of flowers in peoples yards and go cut them down like we had samurai swords to take home as a souveneir of our ‘bad-ass-ness”. This, was my soulmate.

We decided to take a trip to Puerto Rico to see some of his family.  That’s where he proposed. I gladly accepted, and we were such a happy couple.

Then I started looking at the big picture. I worked at a corporate office, while he was part time flipping burgers. He did what he loved. Cooking. Whether he worked in a fancy restaurant, or a fast food type of environment, and I accepted that. But I tried to express that he needed to work full time, and save money for the wedding. We planned a lot, but his dedication showed different. We needed groceries, and he was buying video games. This hurt me. I felt like he didn’t see this as important as I did. I started resenting him, and putting up a wall. I got insecure when he was always on his cellphone, and started thinking he was cheating. My mind was going crazy. Long story short, I rebelled, and let him get away. I tried to hold on so tightly, that I drove myself away. I drove “US” away.

And there he was. Gone. Until……….

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