My First Love Took Back His 'I Love You'

We were best friends at the time. Of course, we were much more than that, but neither of us wanted to admit it. There was the little issue of the girlfriend that he was constantly neglecting to hang out with me.

I was fourteen and all I knew about love was what the movies told me: love is dramatic, love starts from a friendship, and love involves fighting. (Thank you, The Notebook.) The more obstacles were in the way the more I believed that I was dealing with the real thing.

I loved him like one of those wave pools at a water park. He would say something nice to me like how I looked pretty in my homecoming picture and I would well up with love for him. Then, he would talk to me about his girlfriend and I would go flat.

He told me he loved me before we were even dating. He had finally broken up with his girlfriend, and for me, it seemed like we were reaching the climax of the story. We’d overcome the obstacles. We could be together now.

My contrived love story did not play out quite as I expected.

We were talking over AIM. At the time AOL Instant Messaging was like the precursor to today’s dating apps. I would come home from school, drop my backpack on the floor, and run to my computer, praying that I could just see that he was online.

And he was. My body jolted with excitement. What brilliant conversation awaited us this evening? Would he compliment me? Oh please, just let him compliment me.

Minute by minute, we dove into each other’s words. We talked about his breakup. I said vague and pointed phrases like, “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you haven’t found what you’re looking for.” Anything to lead him toward the conclusion that his breakup was the start of our love story.

And then he said it to me.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked.

I read those words over and over again. He loved me. I knew it. I knew it all along. I called my friend and gushed over the fact that he finally admitted it. This was really happening.

After that line, he told me that he needed to go and he would talk to me the next day. I fell asleep that night on a cloud. My first love story was finally ready to begin. I did that thing that girls do where they imagine his last name tacked on to theirs. I was ready to lose myself in that name.

The next day after school, I did the same thing that I always did. I ran to the computer and there he was.

“I was thinking about what I said last night,” he said. “You know that I meant I love you… as a friend, right? Because you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”

I picked apart every syllable in my mind. It wouldn’t be the last time. I would spend ten years dissecting his every sentence that he spoke to me, trying to find the truth beneath his carefully constructed words.

He would later tell me that he loved me for real. Later, when we were already dating, but after he had laid down the rules. Later, when he was so deep into my existence that it would require a hacksaw to remove him. Later, when I was already too far gone.

I should have known then what kind of manipulation he was capable of. But I was young. Naive. Looking for the sugary Disney fairytale I craved. It would take me years to cut him out for good.

“Oh, I know,” I told him from underneath a breaking heart. “I love you like a friend, too. And you’re not going to lose me. I promise.”

And I kept that promise. Longer than I should have.

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This post was previously published on Hello, Love and is republished here with permission from the author.
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