I remember him like it was yesterday.
I was sitting in the library, highly strung out on the tasty, sweet goodness of a 6 pm Starbucks latte.
As I searched the pages of my textbook to keep myself motivated to stay awake and not breakdown from exhaustion, I heard those magical words.
Hey, can you move your knapsack?
I looked up to find this Adonis, and I quickly moved my backpack while I mumbled under my breath that I was sorry.
Two days later, we ran into each other again in the library, and this time, he took the one chair left to sit in: the chair next to mine.
We exchanged some words, found out we had a class together in one of the lecturing hallways and exchanged numbers in an effort to have study groups when exam day came around.
From then on, I knew I had fallen in love.
Freshman love in college is like the plague. If you get too close to someone else who has it, youre bound to catch it yourself.
While I had swarmed and dodged every pas glance or cheesy, Hey, newborn, are you an angel? line that had been hurled at me, the mystic and evil Cupid caught me trippin one day in the library, for Petes sake.
Despite how corny I knew it to be, I loved every second of it.
I couldn’t get enough of the picking me up after class let out, going to the cafeteria or walking me back to my dorm.
The late survey conferences( where we actually studied) were followed by strolls around the campus and strolling me back to my dorm.
It was the first time actually receiving roses from someone other than my friends or myself.
I knew in my young, 18 -year-old heart this was true love, and I thought we would inevitably be together forever.
I felt like Charlotte from “Sex And The City, ” planning out every meticulous detailed descriptions of the man I would wed, the house we would live in( on the Upper East Side, of course) and the cute, cultured children we would have.
Then, winter breach happened.
Over the course of a month( because in college, wintertime break is actuallya violate ), I hear from him perhaps four or five times.
Each time was met with a, Hey, sorry, Im super busy, or Yeah, Ill call you when I get home.
However, there wereno bellows, which built me believe he never got home.
I felt myself making lies for him and myself, telling my girlfriends how he would call me every day and we would talk on the phone till we fell asleep, like real lovers did.
What was I supposed to do? Just give up on him?
No. We were supposed to get married.
I fought and tried until the inevitable happened.
January rolled around, and we welcomed in a spring semester.
I was walking across the yard with my friends one day when I ensure him, in his beautiful, statuesque deliciousness, with another girl.
They were holding hands, mind you.
My heart broke. My ears bled.
My soul crushed in a million pieces, and I knew right then and there that I was going to drop dead.
He appeared up and saw me staring at him, probably like a wild girl looking to attack him for my next meal.
He speedily did a turn and led her off into the sunset( I presume to her next class ).
I hoped he was taking her to hell right with him.
That day, I learned the true depth of many college relationships. The first one horribly sucks.
Its usually painful and disgusting, and it will have you relapsing well into your 20 s as you sit and curse that cute girl for taking away the dreaming you never had.
Then, you realize its not her. Its him.
The loser that missed out on a good thing will never win you back because you are too great, too amazing and too freaking talented to be anyones second lover( even if he is an Adonis ).
College will teach you all you need to know about the world and the skills needed for the job you’ll work at for the rest of your life.
But, college will not teach you how to get over your first big-girl heartbreak.
No, honey. Nothing but day and wine does that.