Your Love Story

You meet this guy in middle school and he’s tall. He reminds you of your uncle who is also very tall. Like BIG tall. BROAD tall. Can-squeeze-you-like-a-lemon tall.

His hair is short. Skin, white. Eyes – a weird sort of combination. On some days, they look blue. Sometimes green. Occasionally, gray.

Someday in the future, you will tell this man that the color of his eyes change depending on the shirt he wears. And then he will give you that smile. You know the one. The one that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay forever. He’ll say something in response, but you will never remember. Because all you can focus on is that gentle smile that belongs to you.

He wears a giant jacket that encompasses him. You’re reminded of a penguin, surrounded by its igloo. Cold yet…warm at the same time. Cozy. You will later refer to it as his ‘hobo’ jacket.

Whenever that jacket is draped over your shoulders, you can feel a gentle sort of comfort, hugging you. You will one day come to love this jacket more than any of yours.

When you first meet him, you barely pay him any mind. Your crush on a trumpet player obsessed with K-Pop distracts you. Plus, your friends are drawn to him like a magnet.

But he likes you. Apparently. So you’re told. You look at him. Study him. Watch the way he walks. Eats. Laughs…

You look at the way he looks at you. He’s always looking at you. And you look away.

Something about him irks you. It’s small, but it’s there. A tiny marble of annoyance….rolling around in the pit of your stomach. Rocking your insides. Rolling…Rolling….

You finally lose hope on K-Pop boy and you’re now interested in being interested. You want to want him. Even though that marble is still there…rolling.

The DC trip is coming up. You know, the one where teachers take a bunch of pubescent 8th graders to the East Coast so they can appreciate history.

But kids do not go on this trip to learn about the Vietnam war, or appreciate George Washington’s home. No. They go on this trip so they can make out on a cruise ship. They want to gossip in fancy hotels and whisper endless words about so many things that don’t matter.

So you decided…why not? You were single. He was single. He was going on the DC trip. You were going on the DC trip. Boy. Girl.

You guess it just made sense.

Your first date was technically Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. Not too shabby…especially for a couple of preteens.

You’re in New York. Exhilarated. You try to imagine your life and what it would be like with him in it.

You don’t know this yet, but it was on this trip that he realizes he loves you. As you take pictures of the city, he takes pictures of you. As you admire Strawberry Fields, he admires you. As you text him on the bus, he will stare at his phone in utter disbelief.

He cannot believe that he is 13 years old and already in love.

When you get home and the excitement from the trip has worn off, that marble reappears and it continues to roll around in your stomach. Rolling…rolling.

Rolling.

It never stops. Ever.

You write poems. You journal. You talk to your friends. You pray. You have a heart-to-heart with a stuffed animal. The mirror. Your Barbies. Your Barbie’s stuffed animals.

But you never find the answer you’re looking for.

You don’t know why you don’t like him. You just know there’s something wrong, and you just can’t quite place it.

So you end it.

The summer before freshman year starts you gear up for high school.

This is it. You tell yourself. This is the beginning of the rest of everything.

You’re still friends with him because he still wants to be friends with you.

He worked his way into your friend group with soda.

Seriously. Soda. He will later admit that he was awkward and shy and didn’t know how to make friends, so he did it by giving you all free soda.

And it worked. You all became friends.

It is obvious that there is chemistry between the two of you. It’s obvious to just about everyone.

So….you give it another shot.

You figure….why not? He’s still single. You’re still single. He was going to high school. You were going to the same high school. Boy. Girl.

You guess it just makes sense.

He is in football. You are in marching band. The Taylor Swift song “You Belong With Me” echoes in your mind.

“You Belong With Me”.

So simple. You wish you can also be so confident with a statement as bold and as simple as “You Belong With Me”

But you aren’t confident those words apply. You want those words to apply. You want that magic. You want to be the high school sweethearts. You want to be the cool couple. You know, the couple that’s been together forever. You want to be the couple that makes other couples either think “Wow, they really love each other” Or “Ew. Get a room”

You want this. All of it. You’re ready.

You think.

But then this one night after a football game, he will pick you up after the game. He will drape his jacket around you…the jacket that you love….and the two of you will walk to Carls Jr.

The night will be crisp. The air is just the right combination of cool but not too cold.

The two of you were freshman with your whole lives ahead of you. It was the perfect San Diego love story. You’d tell it to your kids someday.

You’d tell them about how you would go to every school dance together. You’d tell them about the epic prom proposal. They’d learn about the amazing evenings at the fair, concerts, and long rides to the beach where you’d make out in the back of his truck.

You’d tell your kids about how you found love when you were 13 years old. It was going to be a pretty cool love story.

The two of you sneak into the Carls Jr.’s playset. It’s easy since the employees never cared.

You can get around easily. Him? Not so much. You think to yourself he’s probably going to head back down because he is far too big for a cheap, tiny playset made for children. You would have completely understood.

Years later he tells you that he considered it, but he thought to himself that he would rather be with you. Even if that means climbing up a frozen children’s playset at 12 in the morning.

Years later you will think back to this moment and take note that he didn’t ask you to come down. He didn’t question why you went up. He didn’t say you were weird.

He just climbed in after you.

He met you at the very top. It’s a dark, mustard yellow sphere that has aged in years. It jiggles a little bit when you move inside. It’s so cold…

But through the dirty, hand-stained plastic window you can see the stars.

And even though you are a teenager inside of a claustrophobic, dirty children’s playset at 12 in the morning freezing your bony Asian butt off, you stay. You stay because it was worth the view.

You think about your third grade teacher who always said “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take your breath away”. And since that day, you had tried to count.

And you count this moment as another point.

You are so amazed, you forget that he is there, too.

He was watching you and the way you looked at the stars.

You will come to find out he will also consider this exact moment a point in his book.

He dares to put his arm around you, and you let him.

You sit there in his arms, feeling…safe. Like when your mother hugs you, safe. He felt like home.

You share a kiss. He’s not an amazing kisser but you wonder….is anyone? What does that even mean?

He will cusp your chin, look into your eyes and say…something. You don’t even remember.

All you can look at is that smile. And his gorgeous eyes looking into yours.

You felt everything.

He also wanted to be the guy who took you to all the school dances. He wanted to blow you away with an awesome prom proposal and surprise trips to the beach. He wanted to take you out on his dad’s old truck and continue to kiss you underneath the stars for the rest of your life.

But then you felt it. The marble in your stomach.

Rolling.

And you suddenly think…no, you know…that you weren’t ready. That it was too much too fast.

You weren’t ready for love.

Because you hadn’t found yourself yet. You hadn’t loved yourself yet.

And you knew, deep down, it wasn’t going to work.

So you end it the next week.

High school is a blur. You stay busy trying to be a good college candidate.

He will stay busy trying to move on from you, but he never does. Every girl who dates him ends up hating you. They know, and he knows, and you know, and your parents know, and your friends know, and your teachers know that he still likes you.

He will always still like you.

When you need a ride, he is there. When your boyfriends are mean, he is there. When you need a shoulder or some money or help with math….he is there.

But so is that little marble that won’t settle down.

In between boyfriends the two of you will have moments much like the one in that Carls Jr. playset. There will be almost kisses that are never shared.

The sexual tension will hang in the air like a cloud above your heads.

The Summer after graduation, you start to feel nostalgic. The two of you enjoy the bittersweet season of goodbyes.

He was set to go to college 13 hours away from you. You’ll keep in touch, you say, but you know that the friendship won’t be the same.

His birthday comes and it ends up being just the two of you. No one else was free that night. You thought about not showing up, but you didn’t want him to spend his birthday alone. You decide to go much to the dismay of your current boyfriend who knows – just like everyone else knows – that he still likes you.

The two of you put on a TV show that you passively watch together in his bedroom. You share some beers. You talk. It’s an easy, familiar night.

You start to get tired, and he’s too drunk to drive you home. Against your better judgement, you offer to stay the night to make things easy.

You fall asleep on his bed, and he joins you shortly after.

He timidly puts his arms around you, and you let him.

He presses up against you, and you want him to get closer.

He holds you as tight as he can, and you hold your breath.

And you think….he’s single, but you’re not single. But he’s a boy in love, and you’re a confused girl.

So you figure…maybe it will make sense.

It happens in a blur. The next thing you know, you are on your back and he is on top of you.

He keeps asking if you’re sure. You keep saying yes.

The marble is rolling around like crazy now but you let your head and your heart drown out your anxiety.

You need to know once and for all if the two of you were meant to be together.

Everything is awkward. He is anxious, and you know he is.

It isn’t great, but it isn’t awful. The sex carried the same weight as it usually does with someone you’re intimate with for the first time.

But the two of you know that it didn’t feel right.

You’re reminded of when Harry finally sleeps with Sally and things got…weird.

That’s how the rest of your summer goes with him. The two of you are now weird around each other.

Then you leave for college, and so does he.

You tell your boyfriend what happened and he’s furious. You don’t blame him. Your boyfriend asks you to stop connecting with him. For good.

So you do.

You think, maybe this is for the best. Maybe now he will move on and find a girl worthy of his love.

The two of you stay Facebook friends, but that’s it.

For 4 years, that is as close as the two of you will ever be. You figure it will be that way forever.

After you graduate college you are lost. You had just survived a suicide attempt, and you’re now reaching for any signs of what to do next.

One night while you’re stuck in hellish LA traffic, you remember him. You remember his laugh. You remember the way he cared for you and the way he was always there for you.

You wished he was there with you sitting in that car, telling you jokes to make you laugh the way he always knew how.

You shrug these thoughts away. It’s been too long. The last you had checked his Facebook, he was with another girl. The chance that you two would ever connect again was futile.

Why bother? You think.

But why not? Your heart says.

The worst that could happen is that things stay the same.

So, you reach out. He responds within minutes.

Yes, he wants to talk to you. Yes, he misses you too. And he calls you.

Suddenly you are back in high school, enjoying life and the ease that comes with youth. You're enjoying each other and the way the world looks when you’re with someone you can connect with.

You forgot just how much you missed him until you heard his laugh again.

And it is then that you remember everything.

You remember the fights. You remember the uncertainty. You remember the disappointment on his face both times you broke up with him. You remember the almost kisses and the awkwardness after the two of you slept together.

But you also remember the DC Trip and what it felt like holding his hand in a dark theater. You remember the way it feels to have his jacket draped over you. You remember what it felt like to have his eyes look into yours.

And that marble? That little thing in the pit of your stomach that kept telling you to run?

It wasn't there. The only thing in your stomach is butterflies.

So you stopped running. You stopped fighting the voice in your heart that said it was meant to be.

On your way to see him for the first time in years you figure....he’s single. You’re single. He moved back home and is only 2 hours away. You need a reset in life.

And you will soon find out that he never stopped loving you. Not even for a second.

Finally, it made sense. It all made sense.

It took 10 years, but you can finally look into his eyes and mean it when you say to the same boy you met when you were 13 years old...

“I Love You, Too”