I've been reading so many letters from people who have gone through some really bad love stories. So I wanted to tell my story so far, cause this is true, and... well what else can I say? I'll just get on with it.
When I first met you, I liked someone else. I had never had a boyfriend before (other than some gay faggot I was actually scared of) and I had met a nice guy who really liked me back. I was excited, and although I noticed you, I didn't pay you nearly as much attention as I should have.
I'm sorry if I hurt you when you found out I had a boyfriend. You've told me that you were going to ask me out just before you found out, and if I had known you properly then, and wasn't dating someone else, I would have said yes. Of course I would have said yes. And I wish that was how it happened, seeing as my boyfriend hurt me.
And yes, this is a little hypocritical of me to write this bit- but bloody hell I dislike my first boyfriend. Shit happened, he hurt me, and I dumped his ass. Life goes on.
I know you were a little worried about me losing weight. I know you really paid attention to me, and I remember when you bought me those awesome black gloves. But I guess I was so enraptured with my boyfriend at the time that I missed the signs. So you can imagine that when I was noticing you, it was disappointing to find out that you'd started dating my friend.
Well what a friend she was! Ugh. But let's not talk about that. You still wanted to hang out with me, and invited me to a club, and laughed with me and laughed at me and altogether made my life so much more enjoyable. So I envied my friend, because I realised that all this time, I had really liked you. You were so much fun!
And I laughed at the "relationship" you had with this girl. She was two years younger, she wasn't allowed to go out and all she did was talk to you about her problems that weren't even problems. You guys never even kissed. Did you even hug?
So you took me to this nightclub. I went off with my friends for a while, having a great time, before we eventually met up again with you and yours, and we had a ball. It was so much fun! I couldn't help thinking the whole time how much better I was for you that her, so I guess that was jealousy there. But it was also the truth.
We caught the bus back, and you offered to walk me home. I was thrilled. Probably still slightly intoxicated, too. But when you wrapped your arm around me to keep me warm, I was tingling. Were you allowed to do that? Was this the right thing? I worried that I had been leading you on, that this was all wrong. She was my friend, even if I didn't consider her a good friend, and she was still your girlfriend even if you guys never did anything. We reached my house, and separated, but I couldn't help myself from asking you for a hug. You smiled at me, and opened your arms wide, and I practically leapt into them, I was so glad. I didn't realise you'd bent your knees till you lifted me off the ground and held me against you for what felt like forever. It was so nice.
Then we said goodbye, and you walked away. I spent the rest of that night before I fell asleep thinking about you, and that hug. I woke up thinking of you, and every time I saw you throughout the next week, I was so happy. But I was still worried. This was wrong, wasn't it? I wasn't allowed to like you. But hell if I wasn't going to that nightclub when you invited me a second time. We went the very next week, and I'll always remember that night. I still remember the time you caught me looking at you, and gave me a silly grin back. I had a few drinks, got a bit tipsy, and found myself sitting next to you with one of my good friends on the other side of you. You put an arm around both of us, and when I'd leaned forward at the same time as my friend and we'd grinned at each other, it had been fine. So we'd both sat back and gone with it. But soon my friend got up and left, and you dropped down that arm so it was only you and me. With your arm around me. That felt good.
I must have had a few drinks because things get a little fuzzy after that, but soon your arm was around my waist, and it made me feel really secure. Finally we left the club and caught the bus home, and that night we kissed. I was hurting and I was confused, but it felt so right. I felt like such a monster, but I had wanted that so badly.
You "broke up" with her the next day, not that there really was a relationship, but that took a load off my chest. And after a few weeks, when we were allowed to tell people we were dating, that took off the rest. And now it's been around eight months, and while that might not be long to some, it certainly feels like a long time to us.
You're amazing. You make me laugh, you hug me when I cry. You hold me tight and promise I'll be alright. No matter what has happened to me, you always make me feel better and although you find it so much fun winding me up, for the most part it's alright. You almost make me feel adorable, even if I always slap you ever time you call me that. You've called me butterfly, and now you call me muffin. I can live with that. I'm delicate, you're strong. You have an amazing mind, and you are so observant. You help me to understand things I wouldn't have before, and now that I'm away from you, I miss you so much.
But you're moving countries just to be with me. Do you know how lucky I am? How did I ever get you, and how could I ever deserve you? I have to stay on my toes with you. I'm not going to slip, and I refuse to do something stupid with regards to you. I want to do everything I can for you, because that's what you're doing for me.
This is true, and this is nice. That's why I thought I'd share it.
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