This Is What Happens When You Meet The Guy Who Makes You Love Again

To the boy who taught me to love again,

This is to remind you, what you unfailingly remind me each day, and also, to tell you why I’m glad you’re not my first.

It’s been 112 days, since I decided to hand my heart over to you after exactly 345 days of believing that love wasn’t meant for me. And I do not mean that lightly. I was a die hard romantic, if that is something. I wanted to be vulnerable, I wanted to invest into another person to the point that I belonged to them, more than I did to me and I wasn’t an ounce afraid of getting hurt. Probably the kind that would pray for you every night before she went to bed, and would, without a thought, put you above herself.

After probably multiple poor decisions, failed relationships and being given up on plenty of times, I wouldn’t say I’m that person anymore. My definition of what I wanted from a relationship, diminished significantly with every person I loved and lost. I wouldn’t say I regret any of those things, I’ve really grown as a person because of them. But sometimes, I just secretly wish, I didn’t have to grow up like that. Firsts are special, sure. But they’re the hardest and the easiest both. Hardest, for the one falling in love, and easiest, for who they’re falling in love with. There are lesser inhibitions the first time around, because it’s an open field and everything is new. It’s like going to the ice cream parlour for the first time and deciding what flavour to pick.

This is me telling you, that I’ve tried all the flavours that I wanted, and I pick you. Not because you’re what everyone else is having, but because you’re MY favourite. And I’m not one to experiment too much, so you have far less to worry about. I’m hooked to you, for life.

You met me at a time when I was “unwilling” to love. I was afraid, I had my reservations, and I wasn’t really ready to feel anything, let alone ALL of the things you make me feel.

It’s a lot easier to love someone who has no idea what they’re getting into, which is what happens with your first. But you loved me with all my inhibitions, reservations, all my terms and conditions, till I didn’t have any left.

You weren’t served my heart on a platter, you earned it. More than wanting to have me, you know how to keep me. It’s easy to get someone to like you, and you for one, know all the tricks. You loved all my pieces enough, to stitch them back, when I was especially fixated with remaining broken.

 

In 112 days, you taught me how to feel again. And I can’t tell you how much I’ve longed for that. Nobody before you, ever even served a purpose, they were all lessons.

You, fulfill a need. My need, to feel, anything at all. You, and nobody but you, fulfills that. I write, because of you. I feel, because of you. And there is nothing greater than that, that anyone could give me. I’ve never been more proud of being in love with someone than I am today and love has conventionally always made me feel powerless. Just this very first time, it doesn’t.

This love feels better than all other love there is, or has been. So I’m glad you’re not my first, because you’re so much more than that; you’re my last.