4

I've had four loves of my life. If I was telling this story in person, the word loves would have been promptly followed by air quotes. These aren't love stories that would move anyone far and wide. Troupes of hopeless romantics would not flock to theaters to watch my love life unravel on the big screen. But, for what it's worth, it was love for what I knew it to be. There's the first love. The long love. The short love, and the regretful love.

C

The first love came at a time when the last thing I wanted was a boyfriend. C, as I'll call him, crept his way into my DMs. He was tall, freakishly tall and I marveled in it. He had light caramel brown skin, a fade that stayed sharp and two obnoxiously fake diamond earrings. C had a gap in between his two front teeth, and when he smiled it was unconventionally sexy. He played D1 basketball, so I should have seen everything that happened between us coming. Looking back, C and I never disclosed our relationship. We didn't state what we were, but like every situationship, it felt real. We were both in college in New York. His dorm exactly a 2 hour subway ride from mine. I made that trip three times, which looking back, makes me want to slap myself. But each time I left my dorm and prepared myself for the two trains and a bus ride ahead of me, I was excited. Excited to see him, excited to spend time together. At 19, he was the first guy I could see myself with long term. Until then love was a foreign concept to me. First kiss at 15. First time at 18. I was unimpressed. C made an impression. We would spend time in his dorm doing the dumbest things. He had a pet chinchilla, which had to be hidden from his RA. It would run around the room, as he taught me how to play 2k or how to ride a hover board. Half of me praying that he wouldn't let go because I didn't want to fall and the other half because I craved his touch. The sex was so-so. Looking back, it was not great. I mean he was 6'10 and my head would be in his chest. But, the feeling I got just being around him was enough to make up for it.

For all the excitement and giddiness C brought into my life, he should have come with a warning sign. "Caution: If his father passes away, he just might become a different person." When C lost his dad, everything about him changed. Texts went unanswered. Calls went to voicemail on the third ring. I couldn't do much about it. It was selfish of me to be so upset when the man had just buried his namesake. I tried to be supportive, but my messages of prayers and better days fell on deaf ears. And I was frustrated because when he lost his dad, I had lost him.

My little bubble with C came crashing down one night over winter break. I was at his house, and his mother, who worked nights, came home early. Until then I had never met her, only his twin sister. His mother chewed us both out for being in her house unaccompanied, for which she had every right. After she got done yelling, I shook her hand, apologized for being there without her knowledge and she left to find parking. For the life of me, I can not remember what ignited the argument that started shortly after the door closed. Maybe it was God ensuring that I would leave and never come back. Maybe it was him feeling embarrassed for his mother yelling at us. I went on about how could he have not told his mother about me. He had been on Facetime with mine in the past. She even knew we were having sex. In the midst of that argument he revealed that he had slept with someone at his school. Tears running down my face, I did what any young heartbroken girl would do. I punched him and left his house. I cried the whole elevator ride down. I cried walking to my car. His mother, outside trying to find parking still, looked confused as I approached her car crying. I told her she could have my spot and I left.

C and I never saw each other again after that. A few days later I received a long, remorseful text message from Do Not Answer. Being overly dramatic in my younger days, I promptly renamed him that. The message read like the usual BS apology men make, telling me I was too amazing for him, I deserved better and he was sorry that he could not do that for me. My broken heart responded that it was okay. And it was, because I had already met R.