An Anonymous Love Story

A couple of months ago I asked my dear friend Mary if I could be an anonymous guest writer on her awesome blog. Because she is literally the nicest person I probably know, she willingly accepted my request. So hello Mary’s avid readers! I’m sorry I can’t introduce myself, but perhaps if you continue reading, the reason as to why will be made clear.

I’ve felt the need, over these last few months, to get something off of my chest but life gets hectic and the feelings I’m about to share were not nearly as important as the other aspects of my life. As things begin to calm down and my routine is more set, the feelings can’t be pushed aside much longer. They pop up out of nowhere and they pester me at the most inconvenient of times. As my therapist once told me, writing can be extremely useful for people who have a hard time expressing their feelings. And so, here I am, hiding behind anonymity in the hopes of being able to find some type of peace of mind.

Years ago, I fell in love. Or at least I thought I did. I’ve come to realize that what I loved was the idea of him, the idea of being in love with him, the romance of the entire situation. But not him, I never really loved him. And the only reason I’m able to say this is because now I actually love someone, and it hurts substantially more. It started as this perpetual cold feeling somewhere between my heart and my diaphragm, like someone punched me with a snowball. Now there’s just this empty feeling there, as if a part of my side was ripped out entirely. If I try to visualize the space it’s a black, empty void. Somehow, that hurts worse than the snowball punch.

I met him a few years ago. I was recovering from a really tough year and we were studying at the same place. We became instant friends and spent most of our time together. I’ve never had a male friend like him. We have the same interests, same passions, same humor. We grew close and soon he became one of my best friends. When we said goodbye to each other, I (accidentally) told him I loved him and turned around and got on a bus. It was a very friendly ‘I love you’ but even still, I meant it.

It was months before I saw him again but nothing changed between us. We picked up right where we left off. Again I was leaving on a bus when he hugged me and told me he loved me. Once more, strictly in a friend way. I smiled and walked away.

Years went by and we kept in touch; a skype call here and there, a couple snapchats a week and few friendly text messages. He was still one of my best friends and I loved telling people about our adventures together and how great he was. Then we saw each other again.

I was so excited to see him and we had one of those running into each other’s arms at the airport moments. It had been years since we had seen each other and yet, we were as comfortable as ever. Before our reunion, my friends kept asking me if I thought we’d hook up, which in my opinion was an absurd question. “Hook up with him? He’s like my brother guys, never.” So naturally we hooked up.

I was terrified. This would totally ruin our friendship. Everything was going to be awkward now. I’d royally screwed up. Thankfully, I was entirely wrong about all of that. But the one thing that I was right about was that I’d never be the same. The more time I spent with him and the more intimate we got, the more attached I became. Despite my best efforts, I knew I was falling in love him. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I had wanted to.

We spent two weeks together, 24/7 and not once did I get annoyed. Not once did I want to rip his head off. Not once did I need alone time. I can’t do this with my best friends that I’ve known for years. I can’t do this with my sister or mother or anyone. But with him, I’m a different person and I really like that person. I want to be her more.

The time came and he was leaving. His bus was leaving late, he was heading to his next adventure. (As I’m writing this, I’m starting to realize what an important part buses play in this whole little story). I looked in his eyes while tears streamed down my face and I was speechless. I couldn’t say anything. So I smiled while he told me how much fun he had, how much he’d miss me, how excited he was for our next trip together. We hugged, I looked at him once more and walked away. I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t turn back. My life wasn’t behind me and I had to keep moving forward. But that wasn’t the real reason I didn’t look back.

You see, his next adventure was visiting The Girl. The Girl is a friend of mine and I knew from the start that he was going to visit her. The Girl is someone who he told me he could see a future with. We were very open about The Girl and talked about all of it after we had hooked up. So the real reason I didn’t look back is because I didn’t want to know whether he was watching me leave or if he was on the phone with her. It would have broken my heart in that moment if I knew the answer. I wanted to remember him fondly and hold no grudges. So I walked onward, content with my oblivion.

While I write this, I know that I’m heartbroken. I know that the person I love doesn’t know that I do and most likely doesn’t harbor the same feelings. But I still love him and I always will. Perhaps that’s the heartbreaking part of this whole story. I really do believe that I will always love him. He is my first love, the first person I can envision a real, viable future with. I want to spend my life with him, I want him by my side through all of the adventures. We’re still best friends. We still talk frequently and on the surface, nothing has changed. I haven’t told him I love him because at this point in time, there is no benefit in doing so.

Perhaps now you understand why I chose anonymity. I need to confess to the world that I love someone who doesn’t love me back and I need to do so without anyone knowing I did. The irrationality of love annoys me. I hope you don’t feel like your time has been wasted reading this story. Perhaps no one will even get to the end of this blog. But I can pretend that I’ve shared my story with people and I can pretend that they can at least relate to it.

I suppose the lesson I’ve learned from all of this is that sometimes there are heartbreaks so enormous you can’t just get over them. I will always love him and I will always remember this heartbreak, but it won’t define me nor will it stop me. I’m not bitter and I don’t regret a thing. Now that I’ve fallen in love I know how great it is, even though it hurts so much. Sometimes, it’s ok to be broken for awhile because then you can learn how to put yourself back together.

If you have a story that you would like to share, anonymous or otherwise email me at marysaverageadventures@gmail.com.