Hmmm... well, honestly this is a tough one. I have thought I was in love several times, but then later discovered that it wasn't love, rather infatuation. Or, maybe even just liking someone a whole lot - haha!
I would say that the first (and probably only) person I ever truly loved was a guy with the initials BL. We lived in the same dorm my sophomore year in college and we got to be super close friends. In fact, most people thought we were actually dating because of the way we were always together and treated each other. I always insisted that we were "just friends," but eventually I realized that just wasn't true.
By the time I realized I was in love with him, though, it was "too late." I was leaving the next year for a year abroad and I didn't want to do the long distance thing. This was a huge mistake and I ended up confessing everything over the phone the next fall (calling from Germany). Well, he said he didn't want to start anything long distance and that was the end of it... until he came to visit me for 3 weeks the following Spring. At that point he was ready to start something, but I wasn't... that's how it always works, isn't it? The next few days were miserable with him treating me like crap and eventually we had a blow out fight where I had some pretty nasty things said to me. I kicked him out of my apartment that night (yes, I kicked him out in a foreign country).
Apparently he made it back to the States alright since I saw him the next year at a friend's party. We never really talked about what happened, mostly because he didn't want to, but we were able to exist in the same social circle that year. The summer after my senior year, I had a boyfriend who was a real jerk and was incredibly jealous of B. Basically, Mr. Oh-so-wrong didn't want me around him because he suspected I still had feelings for B. It turns out he was right.
The last night I was with Mr. Oh-so-wrong, we had a pretty nasty fight and he shoved me. That was the first and last time he ever laid a finger on me. But, in the heat of the moment, the only person I could think to call was B (who I hadn't talked to in a couple of months). B, who I would later find out had bronchitis and a 104degree fever, ran over and basically stared down Mr. Oh-so-wrong until he left my apartment.
After that, it was like everything was normal and we got to hang out and just be friends again. I definitely loved him, and I am pretty sure he felt the same. But, alas, I left after college, and we just sort of drifted away from each other. I am eternally grateful because I know what love is because of him. We never actually dated, never had sex, and never planned a future together, but we were in love and cared about each other in a way I have never since experienced.
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