Ah young romance. Is there ever a time when it isn’t complicated?
It is always: boy meets girl (or girl meets girl/ boy meets boy – i don’t judge. But for simplicity’s sake, and since this is ultimately about me we’ll keep it heterosexual.), boy courts girl, they date, they sometimes fall in love (optional), some complication arises, they fight, they break up; boy then concludes that all girls are insane, girl then concludes that all boys are idiots and/or jerks.
I shouldn’t use the encompassing “always”, as there are a few romances that either a) end in death (whether early, late or simultaneous death of either spouse) which technically falls into the “happily ever after” category. Or b) the two parties involved try to begin a relationship at exactly the wrong moment. A footnote to “b)”, this usually occurs more than once none of which work out due to said “wrong moment” or moments.
Of course I find myself in the “b)” situation. Right now at least.
We met in school, as many romances begin, during which we became friends and I asked him out. Thus breaking my “I won’t date during school this time through as it is the end all be all of my career path choices.” rule.
He said “No”.
He, too, had made a similar rule and was better at sticking to it than i. . o O (I dated a few people during that leg of school, ah the wonders of a fleeting girl’s heart. But that’s a story for another time.)
Then upon ending school, we spoke of courtship again. I couldn’t, I was moving away.
We stayed friends, still are.
Upon my return we spoke of the potential again. This time we both found ourselves betrothed to others.
Since and recently, we’ve begun our courtship again. Just as he was making the decision to move across the globe. We’ve taken it slowly, careful not to really get into anything serious.
…Ohkay, _I’ve_ taken it slowly. Understandably so, since I’ve been hurt far too often in the past an he’s vowed (like so many others, who did hurt me, might I add) not to. None-the-less we’ve gone on a few dates.
Now he tells me that he has talked it over, soul barren, to his parents. Sure enough he’s not going, for a while anyway.
Sadly, again, it is not our time.
I am planning on traveling for the next year.
“Surely he’d wait that little bit longer!”, you gasp. I’m sure he would.
After my return from essentially a walkabout, I have plans for relocating, once more, away from his epicenter.
Since I cannot read the future, least that far off, I am left wondering if all young love is left veering badly to it’s doom?