My first official boyfriend and I started dating a few months before I turned sixteen. Before he came along, I’d sort of been dating my best friend but we never publicly admitted it.
So this guy, whom we’ll call James for ease of use, and I had known each other for ages. That summer we spent a lot of time together and finally became exclusive. At the time, there was no such thing as dating in Turkey, at least in my surroundings. You either were friends with someone or you were exclusive.
So James and I start seeing each other. We spend the next two years together. During this time we had many high points and a lot of hard times. I think that, overall, we had a pretty wonderful relationship. We laughed a lot. We cared for each other a lot and we fought little.
Since I was twelve years old, everyone around me has known that I planned to go to the US for college and for the rest of my life. It’s been a consistent and public goal. In the months before I left for college, James and I spoke at length about the future of our relationship. I wanted to stay together and see where it goes but he said we were to breakup. It wasn’t up for discussion.
So we separated. He took me to the airport on my last day and we kissed goodbye. We did talk on the phone during the first few weeks. After a month or two, I mentioned possibly seeing other people and he totally freaked. That was the beginning of the end. After a freaky few months, we stopped talking altogether. I started seeing someone else.
During the several trips home, I called him and tried to make up. It never worked. He was always cordial but we never spoke more than three words again.
This year, it will have been nine years since James and I broke up and we still don’t speak. It seems like such a shame that I shared two beautiful years with someone whom I loved and gave a piece of my heart to and today we’re nothing more than a “hello.”
I don’t know what, but shouldn’t it be more than that?
Previously? One Life to Live
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