HER. Letters of a shared love. Part 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Two old friends talk about a common ex-lover.

Submitted: June 15, 2014

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Submitted: June 15, 2014

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HER

Letters about a shared lover

 

 

Dear friend,

 

I am writing this letter in a desperate attempt to make amends with you after not being polite at our 10 years high school reunion. You asked me nicely about her, if I have seen her in the past years and if I happen to know what she is doing. Instead, I got angry instantly, because she was the last one I wanted to talk about at my ten years high school reunion. Fuck, I have graduated high school for ten years and you come and ask me these kind of questions and here I was – in our old school – feeling all over again a teenager, who talked about her with his good friend, James. Of course I was pissed off, so I drank maybe even more than I have planned, getting home at 6 o’clock in the morning, to a very disappointed wife and to a needy infant. If making me feel miserable was your intention, then I must admit you have succeeded, old friend!

Now that the hangover is finally over and my wife has (almost) given me the innocent verdict, I have given it a little thought and I have to apologize for the way I answered to you that day and, in order to gain your priceless forgiveness, I will, if it pleases you, tell you the story of how her and I fall in love for the first time. I am saying “for the first time”, because we dated for four years, period during which we have broken up more than I can remember.

To start with, I must remind you some things that you may have forgotten or you might recall them, but not realize their importance yet. I fear that the story of how we met is going to be a little bit disappointing and dull, since we have met when she was three and I was four and her family moved into the apartment next door. There wasn’t anything amazing about our first kisses or about our first “I love you”, or at least, our story may turn out to be boring to you, but for us – for me – there is something almost brilliant to this one. Secondly, I am a little bit ashamed to admit that even though I dated a couple of girls, I had a serious relationship with only two of them: my wife and her. Last but not least, when we (or God or destiny) somehow decided to stop being just playmates and become lovers, I was only 15, she was only 14, so you can easily imagine that everything that happened between us was a first for both of us.

It was the fall of 2001 when we started the 10th grade, she was in her last year of junior high and we stopped being playmates for a long time. When we were children we used to do almost everything together, but then nature happened and I started playing with boys and she started playing with girls, so we grew apart. Not only we grew apart, but there was also a tension between us that I really can’t justify: we didn’t even say hello to each other when we met, we acted as if we were two completely strangers. I guess that the fault was mine, I, as a boy, was supposed to talk to her first, but regarding the shit she pulled on me later, I might sound as a total jerk, but I don’t feel sorry at all. If I am to look back, I can’t remember how we started to talk to each other again. I only know it so happened that the teachers were on strike, so we didn’t go to school for three weeks. One day, at the very start of these three weeks, I was completely bored, playing on my computer, somehow wanting school to start, since the weather was annoyingly cold, so I couldn’t go out. Therefore, I started to talk to her on the internet (I guess, my dear James, our generation never fall in love offline!). As I have told you before, I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever about what I told her, what it’s certain is that what I said must have triggered some interest in her(or maybe she was also in a terrible need of a distraction!), because we spent the next three weeks sitting on the stairs and talking, for hours. Three weeks talking non-stop (don’t you even dare to ask me what our long conversations were about, just imagine two teenagers trying to flirt with each other. Or, if you must know exactly who said what and when, we both know to whom you should be talking, I am not the one with the elephant memory. Or maybe you hate her as much as I do.)

After those three weeks when our parents were too embarrassed to come and ask us to get to sleep, because, fuck, sometimes we didn’t stop until after 1 o’clock, school started and everything got back to normal, except that I was freaking missing her so much. She was still in junior high, so I didn’t see her all day long, thing that made me feel miserable. I thought that getting back to my old life would fill me up with joy, but then I realized that there was no longer room for anything else in my mind. I’ve spent so much time with her lately, that I never got a chance to think about her and when I finally did, I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her. As I told you before, our story is as predictable and dull as possible, so when I got home from school I waited for her on the stairs; when she came and looked me into the eyes, her cheeks were reddish, her heart was beating life crazy, her hands were sweaty, so I knew exactly she has been missing me too. Our first kiss was on those goddamn stairs and it was one of the most brutal and painful things I have experimented in this life, since neither of us had no clue what to do (yet, we never gave up on trying that night until her parents called her in.)

Another mistake that I made during that period was not taking her out, we spent all our time on those goddamn stairs. I never realized it then, but now, more than 10 years later, I still feel embarrassed about our neighbors who might have seen our deep long kisses and my desperate attempts to get to second base. I never took her out to drink a soda, to see a movie, to walk under the moon light, so when she broke up with me two months later, I put the whole blame on myself. The reason she gave me (that time and all the other times after) is that she didn’t feel ready for a relationship. Two weeks later she was having a new boyfriend and yet, I blamed myself for not taking her out (this new guy did.) It’s okay if you want to call me stupid, I call myself the most retarded guy in the whole world, but every time she would break up with me, I would blame myself entirely. Including the time she broke up with me in order to hook up with you!

This is the story of how I ended up having the most fucked up girl in the whole world as my first love. As you can see now, it is still hard for me to talk about this without feeling bitter, so you can understand my reaction at the reunion party when you asked me about her. I get no pleasure from talking about that time, but, if you insist, I will tell you the rest of the story in another letter. 

I hope this letter finds you well,

 

Yours sincerely,

William D.

 

 

 


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