When I was getting my masters degree at the University of Florida, I dated a great guy and fell madly in love. It was that first real love, the one that makes you absolutely, ridiculously giddy. I was so giddy that I feared I was turning into a mushy person. I mean, I was IN love. By IN love, I mean that I was on a roller coaster of a ride with plenty of ups and plenty of downs. It was on and off, in theory, for two years.
The beginning of the relationship was a total storybook romance. He first noticed me at work - I had a graduate assistantship in student activities and he was a student [gasp], but he was 22 and a senior. I noticed him as well and we talked in passing. His name is Dave and I had another Dave in my life from undergrad. I was having surgery on my foot and Pfeiffer Dave (being that he worked at Pfeiffer where I went to college) sent me flowers the week before the surgery. When Dave #2 came by the office one day, I said, "Thanks for the flowers. The card said 'Dave'." Naturally, he was flustered and he said something like "I wish I could take credit for that nice jesture but it really wasn't me." We laughed and joked about it and I explained that I knew the Dave who had sent them to me.
So, I have surgery on that Friday and get a phone call from Dave #2 on Sunday night. He says, "Did you get the flowers I sent you?" Hahaha. Very funny. Do not taunt the poor girl who just went under the knife I say. He says, "No. Seriously, I sent you flowers on Friday." It goes on and on with me not believing him and him saying he's going to the florist first thing in the morning. And then he asks me out. If I hadn't been sedated and on crutches, I would have done back flips! I was so excited!!! And that week I got a ridiculously huge bouquet of flowers. Turns out that my apartment number was E11 and the florist delivered the original bouquet to E1. And yes, I do believe that story.
It was great at first, but we were young and it was my first real relationship. We both had some issues and it ended up that for as good as we were together, we were just as bad together in other ways. When we finally decided to cease communication, I thought I would not recover. I knew that I would, but all I wanted to do at the time was curl in a ball in the corner of my apartment. But, times goes on, life goes on, and you figure out that the person you could never see not being in your future sometimes looks a little better in the past. That was seriously 12 years ago.
The past few years, I've wondered where Dave is and what he's doing. I found a couple of his friends and learned that he was in New York, which was his plan all along. And today I found him on facebook. I'm fairly positive it's him, although his profile is private and there's no picture of him. So, I sent a friend request and said something like, "Is this the Dave I knew at UF?" Great line, huh?
And now I'm faced with the agony of waiting for the request to be accepted. Or it could be rejected. He may very well want to keep me in his past. While I do have delusional thoughts that maybe we would be a good couple if our paths crossed again, in my sane moments, I'd just like to know that he's alive and happy. He was so very important in my life - he showed me that someone could love me, physical flaws and all, and find me attractive. For that I am grateful.
So, if he's married with 5 kids, I'll probably cry, but I'll be OK. It will be losing a little bit of a fantasy, but maybe I'll find my friend again too.
Oh yeah, that picture up there, that's me in my skinny days with Dave.
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