Smile… Never Let Them Know It Hurt

I recently broke someone’s heart and it’s killing me.

He was a good guy. A friend of my best friend.

We haven’t known each other for very long. Two months at most. But we became really great friends. Or so I thought. Since he lives in another state, we would e-mail each other…all the time. I only met him in person twice. But ever since I told him I just wanted to be friends, he hasn’t really spoken to me.

I understand that it’s a bit awkward and that he’s probably a bit hurt or disappointed. Everyone has experienced rejection. And I acknowledge that I was stupid. Usually I’m so intuitive when it comes to guys becoming interested in me. I guess mostly because it doesn’t happen a lot but when it does, I can usually tell. But with him, I didn’t see it. It was only after my best friend told me that he was interested that I realized it.

I felt so bad. I despise hurting people…only because I have experienced my fair share of hurt and a guy as sweet as him does not deserve it.

I wish I could go back. Take back any words I’ve said or anything I’ve done while he was visiting that he could’ve misinterpreted as something else. Something more.

I don’t even understand why I said no. He’s a great guy. Sweet. Caring. Kind. A good listener. Cute. The list goes on really. And I spent a great deal of time wondering why my heart refused to open up to him. In the end, I just couldn’t see him as something more. But I did realize something about myself in the time I was questioning my heart. I realized I’m still affected by what happened with my first boyfriend, my first love.

I was with my first boyfriend for about 17 months and it was probably one of the darkest times of my life. When I first met him, I was in a point in my life where I had really low self-esteem. He was captivating, magnetic, and really popular. And the fact that he was interested in me blew my mind.

At first everything was perfect and for the first time in a long time, I was genuinely happy. But then, he started getting possessive and jealous. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, especially boys. At social gatherings, I would stand off in the corner refusing to talk to anyone because I didn’t want to make him upset. It also didn’t help that we had to hide our relationship mostly because it put a huge strain on the relationship between me and my family because they didn’t approve of him. But I foolishly and stubbornly believed that he was "the one."

He would tell me that no one else would love me and care for me as much as he did. He would tell me that I was his only and that he was never going to let me go. On more than one occasion, he told me that without him I was nothing. Soon I begin to believe him. So I stayed even though my head screamed for me to just walk away. Even my heart knew our relationship was wrong but at the same time, I was in love.

The breaking point was finally reached a couple of days after Valentine’s Day. Since we were not able to celebrate on the actual day, we celebrated a couple days after. That night, we were cuddled in his couch watching a movie. He was different that night.

Sensing that he wasn’t really in the mood to just watch the movie, I let him kiss me. However, I realized too late that he wanted to do more than just kiss. Soon he had me pinned underneath him. I struggled and told him no but my cries fell to deaf ears.

I begged him to stop. Sobbed for him not to do it. He just told me that he was done waiting and continued with what he was doing.

It was when he had my shirt shoved up against my neck and my pants halfway down that reality set in. It hit me like a ton of bricks that I was about to become part of a statistic. I was about to become a victim of rape.

I don’t quite recall what it is exactly that I did but I managed to shove him off of me. I stumbled towards the front door, all the while pulling my pants up and my shirt down. I ran all the way home, sobbing.

I arrived home to an empty house and jumped underneath the shower. I felt so dirty. So wrong and foul. I could still feel his hands all over me. I grew frustrated that no matter how hard I scrubbed myself, I couldn’t get myself clean. Finally, I broke down. I must’ve sat underneath the spray of warm water for hours.

He broke me.

It’s been over 5 years since that night but I still remember every single vivid detail. My parents still don’t know. In fact, the only person who does know everything that occurred that night is my best friend and even though I’ve known him for years, it’s only recently that I’ve been able to tell him what happened that night.

Even though he never really succeeded, the damage was done. I may have moved on and become a stronger person, but I will carry that night with me for as long as I live.

So when I was questioning my heart and my feelings about the friend that was interested in me, I remembered that night and I realized… I couldn’t do it not only because I solely thought of him as a friend but also because I’m afraid. Ever since him, I haven’t had a successful relationship. In fact, you could say that they all ended in disaster.

<span style="font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'”>However, I’m certainly not saying I’m not happy with my life now. It’s quite the opposite. I have been to the edge and survived. I’m a stronger person today. I just have a few issues that I need to work on.

I just got to keep smiling…no matter how much it hurts…