It’s a funny thing to be in love. It means that you overlook the little things because you see the person beneath it all and are willing to accept the little things as the quirks that make them unique. It’s those things that make you love them even more.
I had just turned 18 and started working at one of the many resorts on Cape Cod. This was one of the more posh resorts, one of the top three when you think about luxury resorts on Cape Cod. I had a measly little job working in housekeeping doing laundry (which is why I can fold a perfectly square fitted sheet and make my towels in the bathroom look like a hotel).
I quickly made friends with the set of kids who had worked there the year before. They were fun, they were rebels compared to what I had been. They partied, like with booze and cigarettes, not like my old friends who had X-Files parties where we dressed up like our favorite characters. Since that summer was the summer before freshman year of college, I figured what the hell. Let’s party.
Over time I started to fall hard for one of the guys. I went off to college but I was determined to stay in touch. So, I did. I would call (this was just before everyone had a cell phone) hang out when I went home on weekends, make sure we stayed in touch.
It was quite futile though on my part all for the simple fact that he was gay.
A lot happened over five years of “friendship.” I had friends, his friends – I had people who accepted me and loved me. We were like a little family. There were four of us at one point who were thick as thieves. He and I became so very close and it was nice to have someone who was just so nice to me and was not a jerk. Even though there was a line of people fawning over him, I didn’t care, I was on the inner circle. It felt good.
Then I started making some really bad decisions, the kind that really bring someone to the bottom of the barrel. I stopped even looking for anything or anyone else. There were those conversations of “if we’re not married by x years old, we’ll do it and have kids.” It was probably just talk but at the time, I took it as gospel. Though he dated other people, had flings with friends, I was convinced that there was love still in this friendship, after all, there had been a small fling with a woman mixed in there. I held out hope. Letting my head get all cloudy, holding out for this one person. It was kind of crazy. Ok, it was totally crazy.
Eventually, the friendship had a massive meltdown. Completely and utterly imploded. I was devastated. I had already lost one of the friends in a not so great way (though thanks to Facebook, we have reconnected and it’s good to see she’s doing pretty darn well for herself!), I was a complete mess after losing this one.
After a long time of playing songs like Untouchable Face (if you’re offended by the language in this one – sorry), Superhero, and a lot of Vertical Horizon (the early stuff), I realized that it was probably for the best.
Had that not happened, I wouldn’t have gone back to school. I wouldn’t have moved on and actually started living my life again. I found someone who loved me. It was a blessing in disguise.
This post was written as part of the February 2013 NaBloPoMo Series. This month’s theme is Love and Sex. Today’s prompt was “How old were you the first time you fell in love?”