Diner Dasher

Growing up, I always thought the story of my first love would be epic. I thought it was something I would tell my kids and their grandkids. I thought my first love would be my only love. I got that really, really wrong.

I was a late bloomer in the love and intimacy department. At least as far as everyone else at my small town high school was concerned. Let's be honest, in small towns teens only really do one of two things to pass the time. Sex and drugs. I had never even held hands with a boy until 16. And then I hit the gas pedal hard. Hand holding turned to kissing which led to a lot of touching. But I still wasn't ready. Not until 18. And even then, I'm not sure I actually was.

By the time I hit college I had messed around a few times. There was no actual dating. As a girl who spent a lot of time in the pit of self hatred, I began feeling valued when guys wanted to be with me. Eventually I caught on to the mindset that sex didn't validate my appearance. It took quite a while for that. But I still held on to this idea that I'd meet the love of my life in college.

One year turned into two years and no matter how hard I hoped and tried, dating was just not happening for me. So I gave up on the idea of a college romance and went back to fooling around. This is when I made the awesome decision to hop onto Tinder. As most of us know, it is not hard to get someone to bite on that app. Within 2 hours of downloading it, I already had several matches. Then I did what any smart 23 year old would at a time like this. I got drunk.

I started chatting up the one I felt was the cutest. It turned out he only lived an hour away. At 11pm I was about midway through the wine bottle and I finally had the courage to ask him over. He of course jumped at the opportunity and promised to be over soon. Since he got there so late, I kindly allowed him to spend the night.

He left the next morning and I went about my day. I had enjoyed the night, but knew that the app was all about hookups and it probably was a one and done deal. When I got back from work and school that night, I was absolutely exhausted. But when I laid down on my bed, I realized the pillow still smelled like him. So I took the risk and asked if he'd like to come over again the next weekend.

He ended up spending that entire weekend with me. And the next one, and the next one, and many more after that. He took me on dates, made me dinner, met my friends, visited me at work, and yet I still wasn't sure what this was. I had never dated before. It seemed like everything that I had read in all those romance books was finally happening to me. But I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to scare him off. When he asked if I wanted to meet his friends I knew it was time to say something.

We had a talk that night. And just like that, I had a boyfriend. Me, an actual boyfriend. A man wanted to date me. I was beyond exhilarated. I felt like I could conquer anything. I immediately told anyone and everyone of this new man that I got to call mine. I was absolutely ecstatic and nothing was going to bring me down.

We continued on for a couple of months. Everything seeming fine. He was sweet and caring and learned about all my hopes and fears. I knew his family and his pets, traumas he faced. He went to parties with me. I went to work events with him. We spent every weekend together. We held hands, sang showtunes, danced, and went on adventures. Our lives became intertwined, and I was falling in love.

That year, a massive hurricane hit and my school had to evacuate. I had to go back home for an entire month. An entire month apart from him. We still texted and called, but as any couple can tell you, physical distance sucks. But it didn't matter, even though we had been apart that month, I still knew. There was no doubt in my mind; I loved him.

I was head over heels for that boy. I was making future plans and immediate plans. Baby plans, house plans, grandkid plans. The plans you don't talk about making just yet because it may come off as a little weird. But who cares, this was my first love and I was convinced it would be my only.

At the time, my then roommate was dating a guy who also worked at the same job. She got to bring him home for the evacuation. My boyfriend said that he wasn't allowed to leave during the evacuation. I tried inviting my boyfriend to Thanksgiving, but he said he didn't know if he'd be allowed to leave. Her boyfriend had already said yes to going home with her for Thanksgiving. I chalked it up to stress and didn't push it. But I did start to worry that he was lying about something.

The evacuation finally ended and I was so excited to go back to school, back to work, and back to him. I had decided over break that the next time I saw him, I was going to tell him how I felt. I was going to talk about how I finally understood all those romance novels and love poems because of him. I was going to tell him that seeing him was the best part of my weekend and how letting him leave every Sunday broke my heart. I was going to pour my soul out to that boy, and hope he felt the same.

The week that I got back, he seemed distant. He didn't text as much and we didn't call at all. It had started hurting my feelings and made me panic, thinking all of the worst things. Oddly enough, what ended up happening never once crossed my mind.

It was finally the weekend and I was so happy that we'd get to spend it together. But 5pm rolled around and I hadn't heard from him all day. Around 6:30 he texted saying he wouldn't be able to make it tonight because he had to stay late at work. The next day he said he couldn't come because he had to help his friend with an emergency. I was absolutely miserable, but still believed that everything was okay. The next day he asked me to meet him at our diner. The diner we went to almost every Sunday for breakfast. The diner that was quickly becoming my favorite spot in downtown.

As soon as I got out of the car and saw him standing in front of the diner, I knew something was wrong. He didn't talk to me while we waited for the table. We finally sat down, in the crowded diner, surrounded on all sides by patrons. The first words out of his mouth, "I've been lying to you."

The tears instantly began pooling, but I let him speak. He told me that he had been avoiding me all weekend because he didn't know how to do this. He then spent the next 15 minutes telling me all the things that he thought were wrong with our relationship. He couldn't look me in the eye. Many of the things he pointed out as bad were what I loved about our relationship. I loved that it felt like dating a friend. I loved the constant touching. I loved that we didn't fight. Everything he said that day cut me in a way that I didn't know was possible. I spent months changing everything about myself based on what he said was wrong with me. Later I realized that the things he hated about me didn't need to be changed. Eventually I'll find someone who will love everything he hated.

After he said everything he wanted, he got up and walked out. Leaving me sitting alone in the booth, trying to hold myself together. I could see people from other tables watching me. The waitress tried to let me leave without paying, but I couldn't do that. I couldn't let them pity me like that. I paid and left, never returning to that diner again.