I feel like you were my first "grown up" relationship. You were in college, a couple years older than I, and we got along so well.
I met you at a party, I was instantly attracted to you, and the more we talked, the more I liked you. You were shy, but outgoing, you were witty, smart, and funny. Your good-looks and charm didn't hurt the situation either.
Nick told me to be careful of you, he told me you were picky when it came to girls, but I needed to see you more, so I made sure that I got to every party or group event that I thought you might be at, and it worked.
You started to like me, we exchanged phone numbers, and there wasn't a single day that I didn't get a phone call or a text from you.
We started seeing each other, all of my free-time was spent with you, I was so happy, I felt like I had finally found someone who could keep up with me.
We got along so well you and I. All of my friends were jealous of us, and well, I loved it. I was so lucky, but unfortunately, things couldn't stay perfect.
It started with an argument in your car, I don't remember how it started, but you were yelling and screaming so loud, people could hear you, even with the windows up. You pulled over and kicked me out of the car, I had to call a friend to come pick me up, but of course, like any true romantic, you were at my house the next day with flowers and you apologized, and I forgave you. The fights didn't stop though, you started controling me, I didn't see my friends, I didn't do anything, but you cared about me right? So nobody else should matter, we had each other, or so I thought.
I was so sad and lonely all the time. I didn't see anybody, but you.
We got in to another fight, and I thought, forget this, I'm going out. I went up to Boulder to see some friends, they wanted to go to a party so we did. I was walking around this apartment, looking for a bathroom, I was going to call you to say I missed you, but surprise, there you were in the bathroom, with a girl.
She was pretty, long red hair, pale skin and freckles, she just looked at me, wiped her lip with her arm and walked out.
You called me a bitch, and chased after her.
I sunk to the floor, and cried, everyone else continued to party, and the music was loud, so nobody could hear me. I hadn't seen this coming, I didn't think you would ever do that to me.
We just didn't talk again after that, not for a long time.
Months and months later, I saw you at a party again, you told me you had made a mistake, then you got down on one knee, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. You asked me to marry you, you said you loved me, you needed me, but I didn't need you anymore, and I had to say no.
I don't see you around much anymore, and I think thats a good thing.
Despite all the shit you put me through, I do hope you're alright, you aren't a bad person, you just messed up, but I had to move on with my life.
Brent, you were the first boy to play me, and hopefully the last. You made me smarter, more cautious, and in a way, empowered me, and for that, I thank you.