When I first met you I knew that you would be in my life forever. It wasn’t clear whether you would be a friend or lover, but there was an instant attraction that certainly ran deep. I found myself drawn to your presence, happy to see your face if even more a moment. Ever minute of my day needed to be spent with you, it seemed; and I did everything in my power to make that happen.
We were friends for a year before our friendship turned to more. It seemed like the longest, most tumultuous year of my life. I’d developed feelings far faster than I had anticipated and it was torture trying to play it cool around you. I wanted to be with you, I was positive that I could make you happy. Happier than any of the other girls that were always hanging around. We talked about everything. Spent hours hanging outside your apartment in my car. We listened to music and talked about anything that came to mind.
We shared every detail of our lives together, and after my breakup with my fiance, I moved in with you as “just friends.” We worked together, and we played together. It was surreal to me; I honestly thought that I had finally found “the one” for me. The person who would always be there for me. Even when we were still just friends, I just knew that the hints you were giving to me indicated that I was the one for you, too.
We made things official on the first of April and I should have known then that this was just one giant joke. It was just under a year from the day I had first met you, and I was in heaven. I thought it would be smooth sailing from here on out. After putting in almost a year of effort…hours and hours of time spent honing our friendship to the point where everyone knew we were best friends. When we finally started dating, it seemed so natural that people were surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner.
If I could go back to that time now, I would do thing so, so, different.