OK, I think it�s finally time to write about this. Do I tell everything or just start from the present? It�s a long story. For anyone else to understand I�d sort of have to start at the beginning. But, of course, nobody is reading this, so who cares? Well, I�ll just start where I start.

My high school reunion is coming up in about three weeks. Cool, right? Well, yeah, I am actually really looking forward to it. And, actually, what I�m about to tell you about isn�t stressing me out nearly as much as it used to. But it still needs to be said. It needs to be processed. And I need to figure out how much of this to share with B before the big reunion day.

During my senior year in high school, I started dating this guy, who we�ll call J. He had actually liked me throughout our junior year, too, but I was head over heels in love with another guy, and I just wasn�t all that interested in J.

But he asked me to Homecoming our senior year and things just went from there. (I guess I�m starting at the beginning.) I don�t even really know when I finally started liking him. To tell you the truth, I�m not really sure if I DID really start liking him or if I just went with it because I wanted a boyfriend, J was clearly way into me, and there was nothing objectionable about him. So we kept going out. And somewhere along the line, I started to love him. I can�t really say that I fell in love with him, although at the time I might have said so. But I did love him. And he was crazy about me.

J was the sweetest guy. He literally worshipped me. But not in a sickening way. He was so good to me. So romantic. He would do anything for me. He was my first everything. (In a way � now that I have B I feel like he was my first everything because everything with him was different and more real.) I had had boyfriends before, but they had never lasted very long. He was my first real real boyfriend. He was the first guy I really did anything physical with. I�m almost uncomfortable even writing about this part, which is weird. But I think the physical aspect of our relationship was a bit problematic. I truly wasn�t ready, and it never was a good thing. I felt guilty, and I think he did too because he knew deep down that it wasn�t what I wanted. So, as far as that goes, I wasn�t being true to myself.

But that was only a small part of the situation. We were really good together. We were great friends. We did everything together. Like I said, I loved him.

I loved him so much that I actually decided to go to UC Davis because that�s where he was going. I had been planning for years on going to UCLA, and at the last minute I changed my mind to go with him. I made up a whole slew of reasons that I used to explain why I was going to Davis, and I (if nobody else) almost believed that I wasn�t just following my high school boyfriend to college.

But that summer before college things started to change. I don�t know exactly when or exactly why, but there are a few things that I remember. One is that J went to the east coast to spend some time with his family and take care of his little cousins. While he was there, he wrote me letters nearly every day professing his undying love for me. He talked about how he wanted to marry me and how he could see our future together and he went on and on and on and on. That started to freak me out just a little bit because I was not in the same place. At the same time, I had a job where I was being exposed to a lot of new people. It was really my first experience breaking out of my little social circle. There were some guys who showed interest in me, and I started to resent, just a little bit, being tied to J. But other than those two things, I can�t put my finger on what was going on with me at that time. I just know that I started to have a couple of doubts.

Then we left for college. That was traumatic on all fronts. To be completely honest, I don�t think I was ready to go. I don�t think I had grown up enough to leave home. I was terrified. I was incredibly homesick. I was totally out of my element. I didn�t know how to make friends. I didn�t know who I was anymore or what I wanted. I was really miserable.

And there was J, faithful as can be. But things started getting really crazy in my head. Again, I had opportunities to meet other guys, and they seemed interested in me, and I resented having J around. In a way, I wanted to go out and experiment and experience things without him, but in a way, I didn�t know how to do that. And, quite honestly, I just wasn�t in love with him the way he was in love with me. So I sort of half held on to him.

Eventually, I broke up with him. I think it was in October of our freshman year. He was crushed. He lost it. He threatened to kill himself. I�ve really never seen a guy so broken up about anything. It broke my heart. But again, I half held on to him. We didn�t totally break things off. We couldn�t. We depended on each other too much. We did the whole �we�ll still be friends� thing.

When we went home for Homecoming that year, we got back together. I�m not sure why. Looking back, it was probably easier to be with him when we were at home. There, it felt right. It was natural. We just went together. There was also some song on the radio (I think it might have been �Please forgive me� by Bryan Adams) at that time that screwed with my mind and made me think I wanted him back. So we got back together. J was thrilled. The moment it was official, I almost wanted to take it back.

Then a whole bunch of horrible things happened. Actually, I don�t even remember what order these things happened in. Maybe they happened before we got back together. But the point is, I started falling apart. I started drinking � not a lot, but I didn�t need a lot. I had never drunk in high school, and I could not handle my alcohol. I would flirt shamelessly, trying to get guys to make out with me. I never went very far with any of them; I think I just wanted to feel wanted. I even developed a sick crush on J�s roommate, and I got together with him, with J in the other room very aware of what was going on. (To this day, I think that is the single thing I am most ashamed of out of everything I�ve ever done in my life.) I was a mess. I�d get drunk and get together with other guys, and then I�d get drunk and go over to J�s house crying and begging him to tell me he loved me. Once we got into a horrible screaming fight over the phone and I threw every bad word I could think of at him. It was really ugly. So, somewhere along the line, we broke up again.

And then somewhere along the line we got back together again. And so it went, off and on and off and on. But somewhere along the way we developed this incredible friendship that I don�t think I can describe. We both dated other people, but he was always, always in love with me and waiting for things to be good again. And I was insanely jealous every time he had another girlfriend. But back to our friendship. Like I said, I don�t know if I can explain it to you. But we were the best of friends. We talked to each other almost every day. We went to the movies together. I can�t really remember if we went out together on the weekends or not. I think we went through phases where we did spend a lot of time together on the weekends. The years all kind of blend together. I don�t even know if we officially got together or broke up after a certain point. It was almost like we both had each other on hold and we were there whenever we needed each other. But he was absolutely more available to me than I was to him. He always loved me more.

That was a big part of the problem. Maybe that was the very problem itself. It�s simple when you look at it that way. He always loved me more. He knew it and I knew it. And I took advantage of it every chance I got. Not to be mean; I don�t even think I knew I was doing it most of the time. But I did take advantage of him.

The next period in our relationship that I can clearly remember is during our senior year when, I guess, we were back together. For a while, maybe a month or two, I had nearly moved in with him. I would sleep over with him quite often, and we fixed dinner together and watched TV together and everything. But even then I wasn�t totally comfortable with it. I don�t know if I wrote about it at the time; I should look back in my old journals and see because I honestly can�t remember many of the details of my thoughts and emotions at the time. But I do know that, at the same time that I was acting like a committed girlfriend, my heart was very torn about it. I think it got to be too much to handle again. I know the physical aspect became an issue again. I didn�t want it, but I couldn�t completely say no either, and it always ended up being a horrible halfway experience. Most of the time, I think I would let things start and then make them stop. I can only imagine what kind of hell I put him through as far as that goes.

And then I think we broke up again. Seriously. I don�t know why. I don�t completely remember doing it. But we did break up. And then we went out one night (I don�t even think we started out the evening together, but we ended up together) and it was one of the last days of our senior year before graduation, and we sat outside my apartment talking, and I remember him talking about us and our future and how he wanted to marry me and everything. And I just didn�t know how to respond to him.

And now all these images are flooding back to me. Like sometime during our freshman year (I think) and we were back at home and we went walking on the beach at night and I was really upset and telling him things and saying things out loud that I hadn�t even admitted to myself yet. And he just held me and told me things would be OK. And I don�t think I even knew it at the time, but I had begun falling into a depression that would last for several years. (That�s a huge issue at the bottom of everything I�ve been writing about. I should have mentioned it first. I was depressed and I didn�t know what to do with myself and I dragged J through it with me and he stuck by me.)

And I remember one late morning in the spring of our senior we went to a bagel shop and we were eating and talking about the last four years as our graduation day grew closer. And I asked him, �If you could go back and do one thing differently during college, what would it be?� I don�t think he answered me. And I don�t remember if there was something in particular that I was thinking I�d do differently. But I think I knew what he was thinking, and a few days later he wrote me a note saying that if he could do one thing differently he wouldn�t have lost me.

(Right now, writing this, my throat is getting tight and I can feel the tears behind my eyes. This was a really huge, really meaningful relationship and a tremendously important time in my life.)

And I remember one day he had a crew race and I went to see him, and it was a beautiful day, and we drove home with the top to my car down. And all I wanted to do was just drive and drive and drive just like that with him next to me and the top down and the sunshine on us. And I told him that. And he said, �then let�s do it.� But then, I don�t think we really knew where to go, so we just made our way home. I felt really free at that moment.

Freshman year after drinking too much and sleeping in his dorm room and having to put on my clothes again the next morning and go to the dining hall for breakfast. Feeling like everyone was looking at me in my wrinkled clothes and knowing what I�d been doing.

Calling him and asking him to meet me halfway through the scary park that lay between his dorm building and mine. Walking together through the grass.

Going to movies together. Walking across the railroad tracks to the bar. Organizing the canned food in his pantry.

So that was us. Or it�s a glimpse of us. There was so much more to it. So many moments together that I really can�t remember them.

And then we graduated. He was planning on getting his teaching credential, and I secretly wanted (and said out load) him to stay in Davis for another year to earn it so that I could go home and start my life without him. I wanted to start over. And, again, I didn�t want to be tied to him. He knew it. I don�t know how we left it at that point. I don�t think we were together. But then again, we were never really apart. I always knew I could have him back when I wanted him.

And then my world fell apart again. I had graduated and headed back home with big dreams about starting my career and my life. I didn�t know exactly where I was going, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was going somewhere. But then I got sick. I got pneumonia and I was sick, really sick, for nearly three months. I ended up in the hospital for a week with a tube in my lung draining out fluid. I lost about 15 pounds. The wind was sucked right out of my sails.

J came and visited me once in the hospital. That whole week is a bit of a blur to me, but I think I was a little mean to him. Like, I said �you�re lucky you finally came to see me� or something. It was weird.

And then some of our mutual high school friends got married. The wedding was about a week after I got out of the hospital, and I was so thin I had to go shopping for a new dress. I was so weak I pretty much just sat there the whole time. And there was J, dancing with every girl in the place and, as far as I was concerned, making a show of not being with me and not caring. I�m not sure, but I think he admitted some time later that I was right when I accused him of trying to show me and everyone else that he didn�t need me anymore.

And then I decided to go backpacking in Europe. A friend and I went for two months, and I can�t say exactly what my relationship was with J at that time, but I know I bought things for him along the way and I know I sent him postcards. And he called me once in Rome. That�s another memory burned into my mind. Standing at the end of that dingy hotel (if you can call it that) hallway talking to him on the pay phone. I don�t remember what we talked about, but it was a big deal. You don�t call just anyone when they�re in Rome.

Then, a few months later, he was still living in Davis, and I went up there to visit him. My life was still pretty empty at this point; I didn�t know where I was going or what to do with my life. I went partly to visit and partly to speak to some old professors about getting recommendations for grad school. It was February. It was his birthday. I baked cupcakes for him to take to the elementary class he was teaching at the time. He gave me lingerie as a belated birthday present that I wouldn�t wear in front of him and later returned to Victoria�s Secret. He gave me a book called, �True Friends are Forever� or something to that extent. We slept in the same bed. We kissed. I think I knew at the time that he had sort of been seeing somebody. But I didn�t care. And he didn�t seem to care. I think we danced around the subject but never really talked about it. Really, it was like the rules didn�t apply to us. We were different. We existed in a realm that was entirely separate from the rest of the world.

I left. And that�s the last time we really spoke. That�s the last time I really spent any time with him. He stopped calling and stopped returning my calls. At first I was annoyed, and told him so; then I was angry, and told him so. Then I started getting concerned and a little bit desperate. This was so out of the ordinary. He had never done anything like this. At one point, I sent him a card that said, �How I wonder how you are.� I think I just wrote, �I miss you� inside it. Then I sent him a letter or something that said, �If you ever really loved me, please respond.� Again, all this sort of blurs together. But it was an awful time. I didn�t know what was going on.

We weren�t speaking. He hadn�t called me for weeks. I went up to Davis for a bachelorette party and it killed me to be in the same town as him and not be going to see him. I tried calling and got no answer. While I was there, a letter arrived at home and my mom called to tell me. She read it to me over the phone, and I don�t remember exactly what it said but it said that he�d met someone and that we were in different places in our lives right now and so on. Like I said, I don�t remember all of what it said, but it said enough to send me over the edge. I cried and cried and cried that night. I woke up in the middle of the night and I was crying. I had no control over it. I sat on the plane on the flight home and tears just streamed down my face, without me even being completely aware of it. I drove home from LAX that night and cried the whole way. I was devastated.

And it drove me crazy because none of it made sense to me. I didn�t understand what was going on. Whatever he had said in the letter still didn�t jive with his behavior. Then, one day he called me. And basically what he told me was that he couldn�t have me in his life anymore. He couldn�t see me, couldn�t talk to me, couldn�t call me. He was kicking me out of his life. He was breaking up with me as a friend. It made no sense to me. It still doesn�t make any sense to me. He said more or less that he couldn�t handle having me as a part of his life and that was that.

He didn�t say it at the time, but I knew the girlfriend was behind all of this. I had known about the girlfriend, and to be quite honest I didn�t even care that much about her. It had never changed anything before. His girlfriends always came and went and I stayed. I was constant. He and I were constant. In fact, he had been the only constant thing that I could depend on for the past five years.

But he did it. He absolutely erased me from his life. I don�t know how he did it. I don�t know if it killed him the way it killed me. But I was absolutely devastated. I had never felt so completely empty and hopeless and abandoned and heartbroken before. (And there�s only one time that I have felt that way since, and it had to do with a situation with B, and it doesn�t hurt me anymore like this hurts me because with B it all turned out OK.) I didn�t know what to do with myself. I don�t think I�ve ever cried the way I cried during that time.

At the end of our last phone conversation, I told him that if he did this now, if he removed me from his life, that he could never take it back. That he could never call me and ask for things to go back to the way they�d been. I said it because I was angry and I said it because I was hopeless. I said it because I was desperate to change his mind. I didn�t. His answer was, more or less, �OK.�

Then, weeks later, that haunted me. I couldn�t stand the way things were, and I didn�t want to be the reason that we never patched things up. So I wrote him a letter and took it back. I also said a lot of other things about me and my depression and how much he�d hurt me and how much he meant to me. But I never heard anything back.

I still never have. All of that was over five years ago. He ended up marrying that girl less than a year after all this went down with us. That killed me too. Even though I didn�t want to marry him, I couldn�t believe he was marrying someone else. I couldn�t believe I wasn�t a part of that day. For so many years, we both thought that, when all was said and done, we�d marry each other. And even if we married other people, I never dreamed that we wouldn�t be there on each others� wedding days.

I spent a long, long time dealing with all of this. I went to therapy, and it was almost always about J. He really truly broke my heart. He broke my heart worse than any boyfriend could have. He was more than a boyfriend. He was more than a friend. We had a special, unique relationship that nobody understood at the time. And based on how many questions and uncertainties I have as I�m telling this story, I don�t think I understood it either, even when I was right in the middle of it.

It wasn�t until I met B that I really got over J. Now I�m over him. It probably sounds like I�m in love with J just a little bit still, but I�m truly not. I wasn�t even completely in love with him when we were together. And now I know why. Because of B, I know that I wasn�t meant to be with J. And I hope that J feels the same way about his wife. Because of B, I can put all of this hurt behind me and it doesn�t matter anymore. J cannot hurt me anymore because I found better love.

But I�m not even being truthful when I say that. Because J still hurts me. It�s just that I don�t think about it very often. He only rarely crosses my mind. But that�s why I�m writing all of this. He�s really not a part of my life in any way, shape, or form anymore, but now with this reunion coming up, his ghost is revisiting. I know I�ll see him and I know I�ll have to deal with him in some way. I wish I could talk to him. I hope for the chance to talk to him. But maybe I�ll only see him from across the room. Either way, I�ll have to deal with him.

I�ve asked myself time and time again what I want to have happen. This situation has tortured me for so many years, and I�d love to be able to lay it to rest once and for all. But to tell the truth, there�s really no way to fix it. I�d like to say that I wish we could have some sort of relationship, some sort of friendship, again. But I know that�s not possible. Too many things have happened; too much time has passed. We�re both married to people who probably wouldn�t appreciate our spending time together. He has a child. We have different, separate, lives.

But I wish I could reclaim some piece of our history. I think that�s what hurts me the most. I think that�s what makes my throat hurt when I write about J and recall all the memories I�ve tried not to think about for the past five years. There is such a huge chunk of my life missing because it�s tied to J. I feel like he took it away from me, in a way, when he left me. Maybe it would help to sit down together and rehash everything � the good and the bad. Maybe not. Maybe it would be too painful. But I just feel like something has never quite been laid to rest.

And I�m sure that after reading all this you won�t believe me when I say that I am truly, madly, deeply, completely in love with and devoted to B. I wouldn�t trade anything for what we have. I love my life with him, and if I never talk to or see J again, it really won�t matter, because B and I complete each other. But it would just close a wound that�s buried deep within me if we could just talk.

What I�d love, what I think would really help, is if J would say he was sorry. If I could see that, when all is said and done, that he�s sorry for hurting me like he did. (I�m not sure if he knows how much he hurt me, though; I don�t think anyone does.) I know he wouldn�t change anything, that he�d probably say that he�d do it the same way if he had the chance, but still I�d like to know that he�s sorry he made me hurt. Because I am. If I made him hurt even a fraction of how I hurt, I am eternally sorry.

So that�s my story. I feel like I�ve just purged. I feel better and worse at the same time. You know how it goes.

Now, back to reality. So, this weekend my mom and I went shopping for a dress for me to wear to this reunion. I have to look absolutely fantastic. And of course I want to look good for everyone else who I�m going to see there, but truly I bought that dress because of J. I know, it sounds a little twisted. Like, am I trying to hurt him by looking good, by saying, �Look what you could have had�? To some extent, to be completely honest, yes. Do I want his wife to look at me and feel a pang of jealousy, knowing that I was his first love, wondering if she measures up? Yes. So maybe my motives aren�t as pure as I�d like them to be. But this is just superficial pain. This isn�t the deep, wounding type of pain I was talking about before. And don�t you do that with any old boyfriend or girlfriend anyway? You know you do. There�s nothing different about J.

But I also bought the dress for B. I knew he�d love it. I knew he�d think I looked sexy in it. And really, in the end, that�s what it�s all about. He�s the man I�ll dance with at the reunion; he�s the man I�ll go home with afterwards. He�s the man I�ll love forever and ever. And all the rest is just old history.

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Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004

Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004

On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004

A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004

Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004