Falling Down

“Just know it was you all along that had a hold of my heart,

But the demon and me were the best of friends from the start”

- Kings of Leon

He was Italian-Canadian, Catholic, good family, spoke 3 languages, well dressed, well traveled and well mannered. John was my first love.

While we shared many of the same qualities, I was 19 (he was younger), self-absorbed, fun loving, hard partying and non-committal. I was his first love.

We openly dated for 6 months (my choice not his) and after the last of my shenanigans in that fatefull sixth month he decided that he needed someone who could provide a more stable and committed kind of love. I refused. He left and broke my heart.

For the next 5 years of our young lives we talked, we friended, we made-out, we argued, we stopped talking, we started again, we visited, we made-out, I was confused, he was confused, we were confused. He broke my heart again and again all the while the deeper I fell down the rabbit hole until the point I was an unrecognizable weaker version of myself whenever he was around. Yet he had known me for so long and knew everything about me that with one glance it was as if he could read my soul and thus held it captive for many years to come.

Enter 24. After a long hiatus of traveling post college for both of us, he ended up coming back to live in my hometown. He called me the night he came in and Vicky and Pistol (tired of the drama) insisted that I not run out and meet him. I didn’t. In fact, I spent the next 7 months avoiding him at all costs. The deeper I fell.

We met one night for drinks: his friends, my friends, our friends. We both fell back into our same old habits. It was nice. He asked me for dinner, he would make me my favorite dish and desert at his new place, and I readily agreed.

In-between the antipasti and the vodka penne he let me know that he was leaving to move back to Toronto to be with his family. That he had given the Bay Area a try to see if perhaps we could make things work and live happily ever after (as so many of our friends had repeatedly predicted) but that, as always, I had shown a disinterest in him and in being part of a committed relationship in general. I smiled, drank my Barolo, went upstairs to his bedroom where I curled into his chest and told him to make sure to stay in touch. It was July.

He left and I decided that it was time to grow-up. I gathered my resume together, called my temp agent to let her know I was planning to get a real job and I started to apply to a variety of jobs that had carrer potential given my random skill set. A friend of mine recommended me to my current employer (where I would later come to meet one of my dearest friends on the planet, D, and her subsequent fabulous friends G, Posh and A). I applied, got the job, and had my last temp job at a very (then) prestigious investment bank.

Xtian walked in. Xtain was Finnish-Canadian, beyond liberal, confident, aggressive, insanely smart and well dressed in a different kind of way. We talked, we laughed, he asked me for my number and I obliged. It was November.

By January we were in a committed exclusive relationship and the very next January he broke my heart. We were back together by April of that year but John was also back. A job title changed meant he would be coming back to the bay area more often. We would meet every chance we had – sometimes with friends, sometimes without – he had a girlfriend (also aptly named Gravy) and I had a boyfriend (also aptly a hockey playing Canadian).

We talked and talked and talked…about them, about us, about how we had grown-up, how we had grown apart. Yet despite both of us being in happy in our respective relationships something between us lingered. Dragged down by the weight our baggage we sank into the safety of our self-destructive routines. We both knew it was wrong, yet we both didn’t know how to not be physically or emotionally “us.” My friends nodded their heads in disapproval, my parents shrugged in confusion, and Xtian was Xtian…highly suspicious and competitive.

Late that winter, Xtian told me he would be moving to London for work. Later that winter, my boss told me she needed me to be in Toronto for a week for work. It was February.

The post is dedicated to the infamous cliffhanger, perfected by SO, since this post is long enough as it is.