Time went by and something about her intrigued me. I didn’t know what I was getting into but I started to get closer. Slowly, I began to feel oddly comfortable and relaxed around her. And she did too. She told me about her pains, her struggles, and her past. Longing to be someone’s Superman, her pains became mine, sleepless nights for her, became sleepless nights for me. Her fights became my own. But her hurt and insecurities threatened to tear it all down. Her last relationship cut her deep, so deep, that it seemed like she would never get better.

It wasn’t entirely her fault, being single for over a year, I wanted to call someone my own. I had my own agenda. It didn’t involve physical pleasure, but I longed to redeem my first and only failed relationship.

4 months. That was it? Something went wrong, and it couldn’t have been me. Blaming the insecurities and baggage of my ex, I put the blame on her. I was the only one that cared. I was the one always initiating talking, I was the only one planning our hangouts, I was the one that tried to fix things. I guess everyone comes into a relationship with baggage. Even me.

It’s been over two years now that we’ve been broken up. Two years since my first and last relationship. I still remember the day. 07/07/07. Why do I remember this day so much? It was before her surprise birthday party, the one that me and her best friend planned, that we mutually agreed to break up. I never knew how to solve our problems, I don’t think I truly cared. I didn’t love her. It’s been a year since I’ve cared about anyone else besides myself.

It took a hickey of a mistake to realize what she meant to me. It took a bruise, a poorly powdered bruised, to figure out what I wanted, what I needed.

So, that settles it. I know now. And She, is not what I’m looking for. She doesn’t fit into my mold. She’s not perfect enough. She can‘t be her. She’s, not who I’m in love with. I’m in love with You. You. Not She, You. Yeah, You!

I’m sorry, that in my mind, I made you into something as small as being beautiful, as meaningless as being smart, as broken as being perfect. This whole time, I thought I was being your Superman, You were actually being my Wonder Woman. You saved me! Saved me from dating mediocrity. Saved me from settling for less. Saved me from awkward first dates. Saved me from being someone that I’m not. You saved me a second chance. And this time, I’m not letting you down.

As much as I want to be your Superman, I’m just a guy in a silly, red, cape.

He gave me butterflies every time I thought, talked, or was around him. It ended not badly and I learned a lot from my first love.

Met my first love working a part-time job as a telemarketer in college. I put myself in his line of vision until finally he asked me out. We kicked it for a while, and then began dating exclusively. Things got really serious, and next thing I know, I’m experiencing all the corny things they write about in books, movies, and songs. The sky is bluer, the grass is greener, my heart skips a beat when he walks into a room, and my never-having-kids self is thinking about having two children. The climax was when I put together a scrapbook of all of our firsts (I am NOT the crafty sentimental type) and gave it to him for Valentine’s Day.

That’s how I knew I loved him. I didn’t know how much I did until the next year when he came to visit me and we sat in my building and I cried on his shoulder because he had to leave…or the times I visited him and cried when it was time for me to board the plane (and sometimes cried all the way back to New York)…

CB

But I’ve decided to patiently wait for you to answer the question for real. ;-)