I was fifteen when I met him. He was tall, dark (caramel) & handsome. The cutest guy I'd seen in real life at that time. I kept my cool, always. His cousin would comment on him, finally telling me he wanted my number. On the inside I was excited- what could this lead to? On the outside, I was indifferent. "Sure. But tell him to come to me." He did. We talked. I didn't give any of it much thought. October he asked me to be his girlfriend, at church. That's the only time I ever did see him: before, during and after Sunday mass or Saturday Youth Group (sometimes). By November he said he loved me. In my mind: "but you don't even know my last name."
After his "I Love you", on the outside: "Cool. Love you too." Words that I thought were real. He was a stranger that said he loved me. I was infatuated with his looks. It wasn't fair to either of us for us to say that to each other...
Long story short, he went on his way and I mine. The deal breaker? My mother's advice: "If he doesn't come to officially meet the family, he isn't worth it." I tested that theory, on the doorsteps of my house. "Hey, why don't you come upstairs and meet my mom and dad?" He laughed. I grew serious but still smiling I repeated the question. "No," was his response, still laughing. Can't remember his exact words after that but that one word sealed his fate. Now he's just a random guy that I, during my most impressionable teen years, tried to date.
Don't feel sorry for me. That clearly wasn't meant to be. It was written in the stars that we were not going to be anything more than strangers with undefined feelings, feelings that were not of real love.
Fate has found me real love, eventually. <3