Signing into Facebook this morning, I was bombarded with what I’m naming the Boyfriend Challenge. I really shouldn’t knock it, because as I looked through the updates from new couples, couples who had been together since high school, and everything in between, my heart melted a little and I may or may not have had a few tears of joy well up in my eyes at the sight. After all, I am a red-blooded woman with copious amounts of estrogen streaming through her veins, off my case.
Here’s what it looked like:
“Come on ladies, the Challenge is ON! If you have a man in your life who helps bring balance to your world, who isn’t perfect but is perfect for you, who works hard and would do anything for you, who makes you laugh but drives you crazy, who is your best friend and sometimes your only friend, who you want to grow old with, who you are thankful for and truly adore, let him have his moment and put this as your status along with a picture of him to let him know! ❤”
My heart was so overjoyed that I felt the strong desire to write an open letter to my one true love, the one that got away. Here goes nothing:
We met for the first time when I was a wide-eyed college sophomore, when the world was my oyster. I was in my second year of college and adulthood, (if frat parties, eating hot dogs and cereal for every meal, waking up at noon and wearing onesies paired with Uggs to every final while listening to “Lose Yourself” by Eminem on repeat can be considered adulthood…then sure, I was in my second year of adulthood). I had matured a whole year since high school, but you were so much more mature than I. You made me feel so sophisticated, so sexy.
I saw you for the first time at a friend’s large dinner party. At first I wasn’t interested. But you kept looking at me from across the room, you were so persistent. Our gazes locked, and I could no longer deny the intense chemistry we had. I started my way across the room, weaving in and out of the dinner party guests, only to watch you get swooped in on by another girl right in front of my eyes. And then you were gone.
I wrote off the night we almost met as just some dumb crush most likely initiated by one too many Franzia bag slaps, because that’s what you do at a classy dinner party when you’re 19. But I couldn’t help but continue to be intrigued. A few weeks later, a girlfriend and I were at Trader Joe’s. “Isn’t that the guy from the party?” she asked. And there you were. Standing silently near the front of the wine section with an air of dignified confidence, almost as if you were in deep thought.
I mustered up to courage to walk over to you. I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear at the thought of running into this man of mystery I thought I would never see again. You seemed happy to see me too. You came home with me that night, but you were such a gentleman. We sat on the couch watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and eating chocolate, and you never once made me feel uncomfortable.
From then on, you were by my side at every gathering. My friends grew to love you. We fought the time I went to a bottomless mimosa brunch with my girlfriends and you weren’t invited. You were so hurt. But you eventually came around and understood that it just wasn’t the appropriate time and place for you to be.
You helped me grow up and showed me how to be an adult. It was you who taught me to enjoy the finer things in life like artisan cheese and Chris Harrison, and that bringing a box of Franzia is not an appropriate apartment-warming gift. I was in love with you.
We were together the rest of college, but as with many things in life, all good things must come to an end. We tried making it work after graduation, but I needed to move on. My work friends didn’t take to you as easily as my college friends had. Things just started getting awkward wherever you showed up with me.
You gave me so much, but I needed so much more. No longer was it acceptable to pop into Trader Joe’s and grab you for Bachelorette viewing nights, as appealing as your $1.99 price tag was. I had moved on to the $12.99 – $14.99 price range, and I couldn’t look back.
So thank you, Two Buck Chuck, for everything you’ve given me. I will never forget our time together (although if I’m being honest I don’t remember most of it anyway, I blame you for that).
As the great Garth Brooks once said, “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.” You’ll forever be in my heart ❤