“It will always be a mystery to me how we can’t forget the love that forgot us. ”
– JM Storm
This quote instantly spoke to me. I think we all have someone we think of when we read those words – the one that got away.
Mine stems back from many, many years ago – over 15 years but not quite 20. And oh my god did I love the absolute bones of him and him, me. I knew he did. Our love was that fast kind. The one you fall hard, and deep. And of course, he shattered my heart. But before I explain, let me rewind back a bit.
I met him during a super hot summer. Rare for Ireland, but it was a glorious year. He and his family were holidaying in my county and a group of my friends got chatting to his. I spotted him almost instantly. He was beautiful, totally my type and I figured I wouldn’t have a chance in hell so I didn’t try. Plus after engaging in conversation with the rest of his friends, I fast realised they were really nice guys but weren’t really the kind I was into socialising with until it transpired one of the girls in my group had hit it off with one of the lads in his and we were all to meet up again later in the evening for drinks.
It was that evening he pursued me and I really didn’t have much interest. Maybe that was why he tried so hard. Treat em’ mean and all that jazz… it reminds me of my husband and I and our story but that one is for another time.
Anyway, we hit it off and I left to head home with his number in my phone and the smell of his aftershave on my skin. The holiday ended after two weeks. Two weeks of meeting every day and teenager me had fallen hard.
We started going out and he used to travel to meet me via bus every weekend. He would come on a Saturday and go home on the Sunday – a trip via the bus that would take hours and he did for months until he didn’t. He started to act differently and I knew something was wrong.
What I forgot to mention in all this was we were both still virgins and you gotta love the male teenager’s pursuit of need to free his seed or whatever way it is phrased. The thing is he wouldn’t have to have waited that long for I would have given it to him, without a second thought. We came so close many times but it never happened, well it did but many years later.
He ended up cheating on me and was now in a relationship with an older woman. He completely shattered my heart and yet he still carried it with him. It was a weird situation to be in because I hated him and loved him in equal measure and for years, I still felt like he had my heart and I needed to reclaim it back.
We ended up meeting several years later and strangely enough, the role seemed to have reversed. He was apologetic for screwing me over and he wanted to rekindle what we once had. While I still thought he was beautiful, the feelings I once had for him, had now fizzled away but I didn’t realise this until we slept together and there was absolutely zero chemistry. I expected fireworks. The total big bang and zilch. He, however, was keen to meet again and I brushed him off. I guess that night I reclaimed my heart because he was now me and I, him. I actually got a chance to explain how much he hurt me and I believed him when he replied he hadn’t realised how much he broke me. Keeping in mind a good chunk of years had passed.
We hung out several more times together but as friends. My circumstances changed and I had to walk away and we never kept in contact. I never really thought much more about any of it until maybe 8 or so years ago he popped up in a dream one night and I googled his name to find out he had tragically been killed in an accident, pretty much down to the very same day but the year before, which honestly still to this day baffles my mind.
I have had three loves in my life. My first. The one here in this post, the middle, and I hope I am currently with my last.