Favorite Mistake.

J was my first kiss. We were in 1st grade. During recess we hid behind a bush on the playground, quickly did the daunting deed, then promptly ran away. blushing. giggling. no one knew our secret. I did not tell my mother. I didn't see J much until I transferred to his high school. He was wearing eyeliner. He did not sit at my table. His table was worlds away.


K was my best friend in 4th grade. He lived down the street. He had a sega. and a basement. My mom and His dad became friends. We would go boating. eat dinner together. K was in my class at school. Our classmates told us we were boyfriend girlfriend. Told us we were going to get married...I just wanted to play sonic the hedgehog. One day at recess an impromptu wedding was held on the kickball field. I was 10 years old and betrothed. Later K moved across town. My mom was no longer "friends" with K's dad. We didn't eat dinner together anymore.


Miranda and her brother came to my elementary school in 5th grade. We shared the same bus stop. Their mom worked at Johnson's Corner. World Famous Cinamon rolls. Her brother was a year older. We became "bus friends." We got pink slips together for sticking our legs in the aisle. He was my boyfriend for 2 days. Then my grandma drove me to school.

A asked Aurielle out in middle school. She said no. So he asked me. "I guess." It was settled. We held hands at lunch with the other couples. sweaty palms. looking opposite directions. He gave me a necklace for Valentine's Day. We had our first kiss at the spring dance. Mallory and Nick stood next to us and laughed. They "french kissed." we did not. I do not remember our "breakup." probably in a note.


L was quiet. When he spoke, he was very funny. funny in a way most people didn't get. Funny like you couldn't tell if he was joking, but you laughed nervously anyway. just in case. He reminded me of Jimmy Neutron. He played guitar. He made me nervous. but a good nervous. Every conversation was deep and meaningful. His mother didn't understand him. His father didn't love him. I understood him. But I did not love him. He was the first boy to tell me they loved me. I laughed and told him he didn't. I broke up with L on the phone. My 2 best friends sat with me as I read the list I had prepared with reasons I had to end things. I was transferring high schools and needed a fresh start. We kept in touch. for a while. I heard he got married last summer. She probably said, "I love you too."

The next J was Alex's best friend. Alex dated my best friend, Casey. Casey told J to take me to Homecoming so we could double. One day, I walked into the parking lot and my car was covered in toilet paper. On the window it said, "If you gotta go, you gotta go, and you should go with ME!" I couldn't pass up on good toilet humor, so I said yes.
He brought me a corsage. He shook as he pinned it on my dress. I think he touched my boob on accident. He was nervous. I was nervous.
We began dating soon after the dance. I was infatuated. literally so in love, it hurt. We spent every moment together. He worked at big city burritto. I ate a lot of burritos. I told him my secrets. He told me he loved me. I loved him too.
He was the first boy I let see me cry.
A year and half later. We fought more. We harbored resentment. We became crutches for eachother. We lost our friends. We were no longer kind.
We let the thought of breaking up swirl around in our head. We said it aloud. We broke up.
I was lost.
I went to college. I was depresses. I was lonely. I missed my friends. my home. my mom. him.
My roomates went out. Went to parties. I stayed in my room. Watched cable. counted the seconds until I could drive the 3 hours home.

At semester a new school. That should do the trick. I forced myself to go out. I went to parties. I played the role of college girl. I went on dates. I tried to be normal.
Then he called. I heard his voice. It was the same. I wanted something familiar. I wanted him. But he did not want me. He wanted college. He wanted new friends, new experiences, new drugs, new him. I clung on to the hope that the old J was still in there. He was not.

I moved home. Commuted to school. Appreciated my mother. School. work. home. I needed routine. I needed stability. I needed to let go. But before I could. he called again. We got coffee. I visited him at his new house. He kissed me. I wanted to cry. I thought things would be better.perfect again. But he only wanted me when he wanted me. And that was few and far between. Still I waited. I came when he called. I left when I could tell he was bored. I waited. Until I could't wait any more.
He told me he was afraid of getting back together. We stood on the corner of 13th and Grant and I cried. Cars whizzed by. People cautiously glanced as they walked past. They knew the drill. Young love. heartbreak. It happens every day. It hurt like Hell. I finally let go.


I moved out. Moved to Denver. New city. New job. New school. New friends. New life. I was terrified. But I was happy. I dropped my phone. Got a new phone. Changed my number and deleted his. I felt strong. But I had not dated since high school. I didn't know how to play the game. I didn't want to play the game, to sell myself to someone. Like me like me! that was not for me.

H was a friend of mine at work. He oozed confidence, bordering on narcissism. Sometimes he was just a jerk. He fascinated me. I had never met someone so sure of themselves. I missed the days when I was confident in myself. Love and loss has a way of tearing that from a person. One night he asked me to coffee. I felt completely platonic towards him. I hadn't been on a date since J. I said ok. He was smooth. I was naive. He made me feel special. I realized that there could be life after J. I knew H was moving, so I kept my guard up. I wasn't ready for another loss.
But I was swept off my feet. I didn't know what I was doing. But he sure seemed to,and it felt nice to let someone else take the lead. I practically moved in to his apartment. He drove me to work. to school. he watched football while I did my homework. He made me delicious food. got me hooked on coffee. We talked about life. We talked about what we wanted to do, to become. I actually felt safe.
He was moving.
One night he told me, "Why don't you ask me to stay?"
I laughed. I told him he would resent me.
Then he moved.
We half-heartedly kept in touch. I think he got back with his ex-girlfriend.
I drove myself to school and work. Did my homework in the library. Ordered triple grande nonfat mochas by myself. And let another one go.

Z also worked with me, and quickly became my best friend. He understood me. He was a genuinely good person. Maybe the most genuine I had ever met. I could be me around him. I could snort when i laughed, whine about mundane things. even cry when my printer broke on the night before a huge paper was due. We became quite inseparable. After work we didn't need to even ask what the other was doing. It was assumed we would be doing something. most likely getting cookies and cocoa at a vegan cafe on the same street where J broke my heart.
I thought we were best friends. He had other intentions. When he realized I only wanted friendship, he no longer stuck around. That hurt almost worse then some of my breakups. I lost my best friend. Z doesn't much speak to me these days. mumbles a hello at work. No more late night coffee. No more dinners. No more snorting when I laugh. In all honesty, he was probably perfect for me.


N was a player. Smooth talker like H. He made girls blush, even swoon. But they all knew he said the same thing to every girl. I knew. I kept him at a distance. A little harmless flirting, but nothing more. He drank. he smoked. he partied. he went through girls like water. I kept my distance. Then he decided he would "change his ways." sobered up. We became friends. He told me he liked being sober. I liked him sober too. I let myself believe that this was the real N. If he would just stay clean stay sober, I could give it a go.
We were ridiculously cute. a little nauseating even. and I loved it. sushi dates, bowling, deep conversations. Then slowly he started drinking again. And He was no longer N. I tried to stay. tried to be there for him when he drank too much, when he got too rowdy, when he got depressed. I was losing myself. Too busy trying to fix him to notice that I was falling apart. One day he told me he bought a one way ticket back home to California. he was leaving the next day. I drove to his house. I cried. I knew he wasn't coming back. and he didn't.

Some of them I no longer speak to. Some of them come in and out of my life. Days, weeks, months of time go by, and the phone will ring. I delete numbers and add them again. I forgive as best I can. I let the hurt subside. I appreciate the lessons learned. My views of “love” are constantly changing, morphing after every heartbreak and loss. Love is not a contest. A competition to see how long you can keep someone interested. Love does not require you to change who you are. To become an image of what someone else wants. Love is not sex. Love is not “fixing” someone, taking on their burdens and pains. And forgetting who you are. Love is not one way tickets and unanswered phone calls. Love is not a text message at 3 in the morning. It is none of these things we sometimes believe, and I am not sure what love really is, but I think it feels something like snorting when you laugh.