Ghosts, Part II

The hardest and fastest I ever fell for a guy was when I was 19. Looking back at the whole situation, I realize that my being 19 and blindly optimistic had about 75% to do with me and my trusting heart getting crushed...the other 25% of the blame I place squarely on his shoulders.

The first time we hung out we went for a long, winding ride on his beat-up old Vespa. This was a first for me, and the exhilarating feeling of having my arms wrapped around the waist of this very attractive guy, the shocking freedom you feel being so exposed to the world, the envious and longing glances from the normal people, in their normal cars, living their normal lives...all these things conspired to make my heart race that much more when we later kissed on an empty beach in Malibu, his Vespa abandoned by the rode, waiting for us like a spaceship in the moonlight.

There were so many ignored warning signs...why can't I come to your apartment? who keeps paging you, and why don't you call them back? The constant look of tension on his face, and the slight hesitation every time we kissed should have been evidence enough...but I was young, I was trusting, and back then I believed in my daydreams and fantasies.

It doesn't matter how much more cautious and level-headed I am now, because back then, for this guy, I fell quick, I fell blindly, and most of all, I fell hard. I fell in a way that I sometimes worry I'll never be able to fall again. The pain, shock, and utter confusion you feel when the gauze you'd been metaphorically wearing over your eyes since you met him gets ripped off by an abrupt phone call, followed by a simple confirmation of your suspicions (yes, he has a girlfriend...they've been together for years). He did it in the worst way possible. I'm an understanding person...explain to me that you've made a stupid mistake, and while I might not like the outcome, I'm human enough to know that people make decisions they regret. But he was a coward, I realize that now.

The acute pain you feel when you get your heart broken...have you ever felt it? Oh my god, it fucking hurts. There was no escape from it...no amount of pills to help you fall asleep and have sweet, dreamless sleep once there...no amount of activities you can fill your day with (work, school, going out with friends), they don't block out the raw, constant pain you feel...it's physical pain, I swear. The tattoos (my first) were a welcome distraction. I'll never regret them, I'm sure of it...they took my mind off the emotional vacuum which my life had become, they were the first thing I had been excited about in months.

From there the pain slowly dissipated. I was able to make sense of it and see myself as the protagonist in the story, not as the stupid, foolish little girl as I had felt for months. I stopped looking for him in crowds, stopped dreaming of running into him and some magic bolt of electricity hitting his brain, causing him to realize the error of his ways. But to be honest, I never really got over it.

About a year ago we had contact for the first time since those awkward, tearful confrontations where I demanded an answer, an explanation, so many years before. By then I had gone through so many other things...the purchase of my own Vespa and the freeing experience of solo, early Sunday morning rides through Los Angeles...years of happiness, good friends, and a loving relationship...a better grasp of the world, and my place in it. I realized he was just some guy...that's it. I realized I was over it...I even said it outloud, which is something I do every once in a while (state something outloud, just to make it definte).

"I'm over Adrian."

The 19 year-old me that's tucked away in the recesses of my brain?...she giggled, I know it.