29 and Counting

Epilogue

*Cynthia*

I'd like to think of myself as a hopeless romantic. I often spend my time day-dreaming of the perfect scenario in which the love of my life would swept me off my feet and that would be that – but I know better and that never happens. However, my friends consider me to be an optimist – as far as I'm concerned, love isn't easy and it hurts like hell.

We all have those few people that we really connect with – both physically and emotionally. But to me, only one stands out from the rest – Kyle.

Truthfully, his name always sounded like music when I said it out-loud, almost sacred.

I was eighteen – such a weird age to be meeting the love of your life. You're just starting to explore yourself, travel away from home, and experience independence (aka college). I remember when I saw Kyle come in late to my first class at the university. He sat down beside me so comfortably, like he'd known me for years, "Hey I'm Kyle" – he said to me sweetly. "Hi there" – I said with some reservation – "I'm Cynthia.". He smiled – it quickly became my favorite.

Surprisingly, we lived in the same building that year – which made me panic a little inside. I vaguely remember almost bumping into him as I walked to my friend's dorm room on the fifth floor – He lived across the hall. When I bumped into him, he was half naked (wrapped in a blue towel at the waist), which was about all I could comprehend, except: his eyes, greyish blue – Contrasted beautifully with his long deep brown hair which he let rest on his shoulders.

As I embarrassingly looked up, he smiled my favorite cheesy grin – "Hello" he said so welcoming, there was nothing I could do except manage to say the minimally accepted – "Hi." back as I raced in to the open-doorway almost unable to breathe.

It was then, has a stood there with my mind racing, that I knew he was going to somehow waltz his perfect way into my life, unapologetically stealing my breath and my heart.

**

Narcia

I would first like to start off by saying, that I'm not a big 'romance' person. I've never really been into the mushy-gushy stuff that comes along with any relationship. I value loyalty, honestly, and attention. My friends probably consider me to be a little ruthless when it comes to how I deal with men – partially because I was dating three men at once in college. I liked all of them and they all sort of knew about each other, but not really.

My mom likes to call me a 'playa' but I think I'm more a 'hoe' – not really, there's just no other way to describe my behaviors. I think I have honestly been in love before, with a guy who had a girlfriend. I respected that so I just left him and his bitch ass girl alone until they broke-up – then I slid into those DM's ('Direct Messages' for you youngers).

Until they got back together.

I remember when I first saw that cutie – his name was Devon. He was slender, stylish, and had nice soft-looking dark hair. His smile was big and his eyes were brown – just my type.

"Hi." – I remember saying barely able to breathe – "Hey there." He said back and flashed a smile. That was it. That was how we met.

I remember later that day telling my friends that I found the love of my life, but I didn't know his name or have his number – like I any 18-year-old girl, I started investigating. After much wondering around the dorms, I finally found his room and I got his Instagram (which I think people still use?).

When I saw his Instagram posts, I was crushed. He had a girlfriend. The love of 'my' life had someone that wasn't me. However, I still managed to get his number and we told each other that we thought the other was 'cute', but that was that. I still loved him though.