"The One That Got Away" And Why I Still Can't Seem To Shake Him
I don't think I'm alone when I confess to you that, from time to time, I still think about "The One That Got Away". I know, I know, I'm sure we all do it. But for me, it happens a little bit more than I'd like to admit.
I thought it was meant to be. (You know how the story goes.) But no matter what I do, I can still feel the hole in my heart. The part of my heart that I gave away. The part of my heart that I'll never get back.
He was a foreigner- The One That Got Away. I met him on a community service trip to Israel during the winter break of my junior year in college. All it took was 8 days. 8 days for me to fall in love with him.
I had never met anyone like him before. He was doing his year of service for the army, working as a guide for the local youth in his village, taking them on field trips and teaching them all about the importance of natural resources. He just so happened to be stationed at the same school I was volunteering at for the week.
One brief moment. One short exchange of words. One look into his warm, brown puppy-dog eyes, and I knew I would never be the same.
To say I fell in love would be an understatement. In that week, in that one week alone, I felt more emotions than I had ever experienced in my entire life; pain- because I knew I would have to leave him eventually, anger- because I wished I hadn't fallen so hard so fast, fear- because I didn't know what the future held for us, confusion- because I had never felt so much in my life, love, passion- the list goes on.
When I go back in my mind to that unforgettable week, I hear the sexy accent in his voice as he calls my name, I hear the music blasting in his car as we sing along to our favorite songs, I feel the touch of his hands interlocking with mine as we walk down the old streets of Jaffa, I feel his body against mine and his arms enclosed around my waist as we slow dance in the hotel room to no music, I feel his penetrating eyes looking into my soul, I listen to beautiful words flow out of his mouth like poetry. I hear him ask, "Can I kiss you?" And I feel myself throwing my body against his in response. I feel the soft gentle kisses he leaves on my nose and forehead and the tingly feeling they send to my feet, I hear him tell me how he wishes he could lie with me forever without interruption. Memories of him skyping with me every night, all night, for months and months, despite the inconvenient time difference, come rushing back to me.
"What if you moved to Israel?"
"What if you moved to America?"
But common sense finally caught up with us and we knew there was just no way.
I think about him and get teary-eyed. I think about him and I wish I could forget. I try to erase. But it's impossible. He's left his mark. On my body, my heart, and my memory.
I wish I could tell you that that beautiful quote from the notebook resonated with me. You know, the one that goes:
"I'm not bitter anymore, because I know that what we had was real. And if in some distant place in the future we see each other in our new lives, I'll smile at you with joy and remember how we spent the summer beneath the trees, learning from each other and growing in love. The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever. I love you. I'll be seeing you."
I wish I could but I can't. I'm just not strong enough to be so selfless. Maybe it's time. Maybe I just need more of it. It's only been two years, right? But god damnnit, how much time must I wait before the pain becomes more bearable?
I've heard it said that "it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all". Well, whoever wrote that, must've lived happily-ever-after, because losing the love of my life sure as hell was no picnic. The heartbreak it has brought me is something I still struggle with on a daily basis. When the only thing I want for my birthday is for him to reach out to me, and when the one wish I have is for him to leave me a message, I know I need to face the facts: he's just not there.
Thousands and thousands of miles now separate us. Thousands and thousands of miles will always separate us. I have spent, what seems like forever, going back in my mind to that time. With him, I felt like I knew everything. Without him, I feel like I know nothing. The only thing that seems quite clear to me is that "we loved with a love that was more than love". And for now, that'll just have to suffice.
I thought it was meant to be. (You know how the story goes.) But no matter what I do, I can still feel the hole in my heart. The part of my heart that I gave away. The part of my heart that I'll never get back.
He was a foreigner- The One That Got Away. I met him on a community service trip to Israel during the winter break of my junior year in college. All it took was 8 days. 8 days for me to fall in love with him.
I had never met anyone like him before. He was doing his year of service for the army, working as a guide for the local youth in his village, taking them on field trips and teaching them all about the importance of natural resources. He just so happened to be stationed at the same school I was volunteering at for the week.
One brief moment. One short exchange of words. One look into his warm, brown puppy-dog eyes, and I knew I would never be the same.
To say I fell in love would be an understatement. In that week, in that one week alone, I felt more emotions than I had ever experienced in my entire life; pain- because I knew I would have to leave him eventually, anger- because I wished I hadn't fallen so hard so fast, fear- because I didn't know what the future held for us, confusion- because I had never felt so much in my life, love, passion- the list goes on.
When I go back in my mind to that unforgettable week, I hear the sexy accent in his voice as he calls my name, I hear the music blasting in his car as we sing along to our favorite songs, I feel the touch of his hands interlocking with mine as we walk down the old streets of Jaffa, I feel his body against mine and his arms enclosed around my waist as we slow dance in the hotel room to no music, I feel his penetrating eyes looking into my soul, I listen to beautiful words flow out of his mouth like poetry. I hear him ask, "Can I kiss you?" And I feel myself throwing my body against his in response. I feel the soft gentle kisses he leaves on my nose and forehead and the tingly feeling they send to my feet, I hear him tell me how he wishes he could lie with me forever without interruption. Memories of him skyping with me every night, all night, for months and months, despite the inconvenient time difference, come rushing back to me.
"What if you moved to Israel?"
"What if you moved to America?"
But common sense finally caught up with us and we knew there was just no way.
I think about him and get teary-eyed. I think about him and I wish I could forget. I try to erase. But it's impossible. He's left his mark. On my body, my heart, and my memory.
I wish I could tell you that that beautiful quote from the notebook resonated with me. You know, the one that goes:
"I'm not bitter anymore, because I know that what we had was real. And if in some distant place in the future we see each other in our new lives, I'll smile at you with joy and remember how we spent the summer beneath the trees, learning from each other and growing in love. The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever. I love you. I'll be seeing you."
I wish I could but I can't. I'm just not strong enough to be so selfless. Maybe it's time. Maybe I just need more of it. It's only been two years, right? But god damnnit, how much time must I wait before the pain becomes more bearable?
I've heard it said that "it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all". Well, whoever wrote that, must've lived happily-ever-after, because losing the love of my life sure as hell was no picnic. The heartbreak it has brought me is something I still struggle with on a daily basis. When the only thing I want for my birthday is for him to reach out to me, and when the one wish I have is for him to leave me a message, I know I need to face the facts: he's just not there.
Thousands and thousands of miles now separate us. Thousands and thousands of miles will always separate us. I have spent, what seems like forever, going back in my mind to that time. With him, I felt like I knew everything. Without him, I feel like I know nothing. The only thing that seems quite clear to me is that "we loved with a love that was more than love". And for now, that'll just have to suffice.
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