The very first girl I fell in love with — I was in 7th grade, she was a real woman in 9th grade — were friends for quite a while in school, but I was in love with her, and she just loved me, but not in the way I wanted. I had to let her go. She went on, got married, had kids. 13 years later, I woke up one Saturday morning, out of the blue, determined that I had to speak with her again. I called up her husband, who turned out to be her ex-husband, who put me in touch with her mother, who put me in touch with her. She was not doing well at the time. She was having problems. A few weeks later, she basically stole her boyfriend's van and drove back from Las Vegas. We saw each other for a bit. Then she disappeared. A few years later, she showed up again. She had gone off and gotten married (her third, it turned out), but it hadn't worked out. We saw each other for a bit. She disappeared, then showed up again a few years later. She had gone off and gotten married (her fourth), but it hadn't turned out. We saw each other for a bit. Then one day she tells me that she is moving to England — to get married. By then, I'd had enough. I told her I loved her still, but I couldn't be her backup plan anymore, so when this one blew up in her face like the others, that she shouldn't come back to me. That was 26 years ago, and from what I understand, they are still married, and she has built a quite successful life for herself south of London.
So, there's that.
