a post, dedicated to...

...WH, my ex-boyfriend.

So, all my talk of being a commitment-phobe the other day, as well as someone else's blog post about boyfriends made me think of my last serious boyfriend, and I decided that he probably deserved his own post on here. (If he knew about this, he'd scoff at me, look sheepish, probably argue with me about it, and maybe change the subject. Yes, he is adorable.)

I should probably come right out and explain that I haven't been in any other "real" relationships. There was the boy who asked me out in fifth grade, to which I replied "Where are we going?" (Ahahahaha, 11-year-old self. Good one.) I called him my "boyfriend" in a journal that I tried to keep for all of a few days and "liked him a lot" and I'm pretty sure I remember the word "special" being thrown in there somewhere... but I'm pretty sure we never even held hands. Ahh, such an awkward age. After this boyfriend that I'm about to talk about, I was kinda, sorta, maybe seeing someone last year, but I was still adjusting to being new at "the college thing" and I really ended up just not having time for him. We went on a few dates and got along really well, but I think we were just both in very different places in our lives. There were other boys who asked, but who I just wasn't as interested in and tried hard to be nice to about it. In some ways, it really wasn't them - it was me, and my enjoyment of my own independence.

Anyway, WH and I actually go pretty far back. We went to the same elementary school, but because we were a year apart, I didn't really notice him much until about 7th grade, when another boy, JF (note: different "J" than in previous posts) and he and I sat together in math class. Our school had a program in which it moved "advanced" students up a year in math. Don't ask me why it did this - for children like me who actually never showed an aptitude for math in particular it made no sense. JF and I were the first to qualify, (I have no idea how I did, honestly) when we were in 1st grade, but others were added later. I actually remember being given these tests and not knowing why I was taking them. Even when I found out, I remember thinking "but I like English?" But, I suppose it kept me out of trouble, because I really had to work hard to make up for my lost 2nd grade year. Oh, and then I skipped Algebra 1 when I transferred schools... This is probably why I have such a complete and total loathing of ANYthing with numbers now.

Anyway, we all sat together in math when JF and I were in 7th grade, WH in 8th, and were probably kind of delinquents sometimes. I seem to recall a fair bit of goofing around. They'd gang up on me and put balled up papers in the hood of my sweatshirt, I'd swear at them; it was great fun. On April Fool's day, we snuck into open classrooms and turned all of the desks facing the back of the classroom. I think we even got clever and asked the gym teacher, with his set of master keys to assist us. Somehow, our social studies teacher suspected us... I'm pretty sure I failed at looking innocent.

The next year, coincidentally, WH and I both transferred to H-field. As I think I might've mentioned, our town doesn't have a high school, so it makes sense on some level. For him, it was convenient because his parents are divorced and his dad lives in the town. For mine, I just needed to get the hell out of M-ville and my parents wanted me to have a year to get to know people before high school. (They knew that it could go either really badly, or really amazingly, because 8th grade is a tough year. Luckily, I ended up completely in love with it.)

While I was making friends over at the middle school, WH was having a harder time. I remember talking to him on AIM a lot (remember when people used to do that!?) and him talking about not quite being sure if he fit in there. He's kind of quiet, until you actually get to know him, and since high school is a big adjustment for all of the freshmen, I can see how he would have gotten overlooked at first. It also didn't help that my loathing of M-ville was probably proportional to his loving of it - his class was about 100 times better than mine, in terms of fewer behavioral issues, more really nice people, etc. So he wasn't as keen to be uprooted as I was. I reassured him that I'd be there to hang out with the next year, and in the mean time, invited him out with my "cool" 8th grade friends. (No, really. We went to this coffee shop in town - that our parents had to drive us to - and thought we were really awesome.)

By the time I came to the high school, I thought he was crazy for insisting that he didn't have friends. For his part, he seemed stunned that he did - he kept insisting that he didn't really know how it happened. (Um, because he's really awesome. Duh.) He still hung out with my friends and I sometimes, and since we lived in the same town, we were still in close proximity. Since we were in a bigger school and in different years (and, unfortunately, different math classes, until the year we stopped dating), we didn't see each other as often - but we did have the same lunch period. He ate with a bunch of goofy guys (for some reason, they would always call over to me from across the cafeteria and try to get me to date their friends... I was nonplussed about the whole thing... the other girls at my table were kind of jealous, even though none of them were very good-looking) and I ate with some girls in my year, but he and I would always detacthc ourselves from our aforementioned contingents and take the same route up to our classes together and give each other a brief summary of our days. As silly as it sounds, I always looked forward to our 2 minute walks. (I was probably tired of hearing the girls constantly talk about boys. I liked them well enough, and thought a few were attractive, but on the whole, didn't understand what the big fuss was about.)

As we moved into the end of the year, WH and I started spending more time together. We had wanted to hang out one weekend and see a movie, but it was my mom's birthday and I ended up not being able to. He asked me to come with him to Starbucks after school the following Monday, and of course I wanted to. (Not nearly as cool as "our" coffee shop, but it would have to do.) I remember having this vague suspicion that there was something different about this "get together," but not really knowing what it was.

We met up and walked into town together. I remember being nervous and not knowing why. Seriously, I hung out with this kid all the time - what was my deal? We got to the shop, ordered drinks and sat down near the window together. We made small talk - I have a distinct memory of telling him about how my parents bought me a new lawn mower (I decided it was "mine" because I was the one who mowed all of our grass - a fact, of which I was very proud). Then, he looked down at the table, cleared his throat and looked up at me again, and something about the way he looked at me triggered something, and it hit me: Oh my god, he's going to ask me out. And just as quickly as that lightening bolt struck, a second: Oh my god, I really like him. I really want to date him! (Or, such were the deep thoughts of my 15-year-old self, approximately.)

"So, uh, we've been friends for a while..."

He was hesitant and, quite frankly, adorable about it. I remember waiting for him to get it out, and wishing that I could just hurry up the process (and make him less nervous) and yell "YES!" but realizing that I should really let him finish. Our only hesitation was our friendship, which we agreed we would maintain, even when we eventually broke up (we were pragmatic high schoolers). As he walked me out to my dad's car when he came to pick me up, we awkwardly hugged and said good-bye. I was ecstatic.

When I blurted out the news to my parents, my dad couldn't suppress a grin, and my mom gave a small knowing smile, then raised her eyebrows at me. "Well, it's about time!" were the first words out of her mouth. I gaped at them in shock. "Yeah, we were wondering when you two would finally get around to it." I spluttered at them some more "But - wait - I didn't even... hold on - seriously!?" They continued to exchange looks and smirk at me some more. It was maddening. "Yeah, it's been a while. You guys really took your time. A few months ago when we dropped you off at that movie with that other guy who asked you on a date, we looked at each other in the car and said 'When is she going to get around to dating him?'"

Moral of this story: My own parents know me better than I know myself.

As a 15-year-old, I was flabbergasted at this revelation.

Anyway, WH and I spent the next 15 months together - we dated from the very last day of May, my freshman year, to the very beginning of my junior year, somewhere in the middle of September, I think. We had a really good time. To be honest, we had a pretty low-key relationship. We still did our 2-minute "day debriefing" every day... although now we held hands, and everyone suddenly thought we were a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e. (I remember being distinctly uncomfortable with all the attention given to a new couple, and wishing everyone would just leave us the hell alone about it.) We still played video games and watched movies together... although now we cuddled in between. We spent time walking around town and thinking up novel ideas for dates that didn't rely on our parents driving us around too much. He put up with my quirks, such as the need to meticulously plan everything and the "no-kissing-at-school-because-I-don't-like-couples-who-excessively-PDA-in-the-hallways" rule and brought me flowers and Spaghettios (my favorite childhood throwback food EVER) when I was sick; I made an effort to be more feminine and actually purchased some skirts (whaat!? It turned out, halfway through our relationship, that he still thought I looked "cute" with messed up "after softball practice hair" and wearing a sweatshirt and jeans) and wore them and tried really hard to be spontaneous when his friends came up with crazy last minute plans, and bought him clothing sometimes, because that's what I thought girlfriends did for boyfriends.

Our official line is that it was a mutual breakup, but, really, I know that I'm the one who instigated it. It was the beginning of my junior, his senior year and I realized two important things: 1) I didn't have enough time for him, and wasn't able to make it and 2) He wasn't entirely happy in the relationship, but was too nice to ever say anything about it. I really believe that it was the right decision. For my part, I really was way too busy - that was the year I spent most of my lunch times in the chemistry teacher's room, stressing about not understanding any of the material, and also the year that my tonsils became permanently infected and I spent most of my time extremely ill. (Think of how much money he saved on Spaghettios and flowers by getting out of that relationship!) I'm also a really independent person, and am easily scared off by the fact that someone else's happiness is dependent upon me. It was good for me to have a break from that, especially with the chaos that ended up being that year.

For his part, he started dating another girl a few months after me, and while I had a vague feeling of loss, I knew it was right for him. I just sensed that he wanted more from the relationship than I was willing to give. He never would have pushed me, and maybe he didn't even know exactly what he wanted, or how to express it - but I just couldn't stand the idea that things weren't quite what he wanted. Sometimes, when you love someone, you have to let them go. I cared about his happiness so much that I really wanted it for him, even if it wasn't with me. We ended our relationship with an awkward hug outside, as my dad pulled up to pick me up, a bittersweet echo of how we had begun.

We spent my junior year, his senior year on very awkward terms. (Of course, that was the year that we finally had a class together. Thanks, Universe.) We were polite, but I knew that, despite my best efforts, I had hurt him. It also didn't help things that shortly after we broke up, his best friend committed suicide. Having gone through it with my aunt about a year and a half before, I knew (on some level) what he was going through, but I didn't know how to help him. I tried to be there for him, but I also didn't want to upset him by seemingly too clingy after we'd just broken up and were on weird terms. Sometimes, I wished we had still been dating, just so that I could better comfort him.

After he went away to college, we got back on track. He called me up on one of his breaks and asked me to have dinner with him at the new vegetarian place in our town. (Oh, yeah - we are both vegetarians, although I started eating fish again some time during my junior year as I desperate attempt to "get more protein" and be healthy again, before I knew that my tonsils where I why I was sick all the time.) I was relieved that he had initiated the contact, and that he was no longer cold and distant toward me. We avoided the subject of the year we had spent apart until the very end of the night, as I was walking him out, after hanging out in my kitchen for a while. "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that," he began, and I told him that, really, it was ok - that I was sorrier, since I knew that I'd hurt him and didn't know how to make it better. "I just needed time... but I realized that I was being stupid, because, you remember how we promised we'd stay friends?" I smiled, because I had been hoping that he had remembered, too. We ended the evening, as is our pattern, with a hug, and promises to talk more often and keep our friendship. Since then, we've both been really busy, and away at our respective schools - especially when he went to India last spring semester for study abroad. Still, we've managed to have a few adventures, among them, some more vegetarian food, and an epically failed, although hilarious and enjoyable attempt at making a "Tofurkey," something we've been talking about since before we started dating, but never got around to. (We still, apparently, have yet to make a successful one. Maybe this Thanksgiving?)

Even though our feelings for each other have changed, WH will always have a special place in my heart. He was truly an excellent boyfriend, and there is no doubt in my mind that he will one day make an amazing husband, for a very lucky woman. I can't express how thankful I am that we were able to remain friends, and that we still talk, because as much as I like him, I also admire him as a person and am proud to be able to call him one of my friends.

I talked to him recently, and we plan to have lunch when we're both back home, at what is now "our" vegetarian place and catch up about my sophomore, his junior year of college.

My, how time flies!