How old were you when you first experienced this love?: 24

I remember sitting around the radio listening to music with my family and really taking in the lyrics. The music was so refreshing and nonjudgemental. I was able to allow my mind to drift into a sea of blissful harmonious relaxation. Listening to people like Aretha Franklin, Patti Labelle and The Temptations allowed me to connect with my soul roots on a deeper level….O how I love Music!!!!

Jake and I met when we were 13 but it really wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school, at the age of 16, that my admiration for Jake evolved into something more. We were in Vermont, he with his family and me with my best friend’s family, for what was becoming an annual group ski vacation. We had both been on this trip in years past but this year, I could not stop thinking about Jake. He was different than the other boys in the Vermont house. He seemed older, a little more mature, and a little mysterious. And he could ski like no other. He was an aggressive and yet graceful skier. I loved watching him attack the moguls and tried my best to keep up with him, often following his exact path so I could learn to turn as well as him. And he followed me. He was the first to help me up if I fell, first to ask if I was okay, first to get in line with me on the chairlift.

We left Vermont more as friends than just acquaintances. We both acknowledged each other a lot more in school, and would chat in the lunch room or tease each other in the halls. He was so handsome. Tall, dark hair, and the most intense brown eyes I had ever seen. He had a huge, dimpled smile that just lit up a room. By the spring our flirting became a daily ritual, and it was a thrill to see how far we would take it. I started stopping by his work place after school, and he would spend more and more time talking with me between classes and passing me notes. I was thrilled but cautious. Jake had a reputation for leading girls on. His nickname was, “Casanova.”

The school year came to a close and much to my dismay, nothing had materialized with Jake at that point. Then on July 4th my friend and I attended a party at Jake’s friend’s house, and there he was. We sat together on the couch much of the night talking, about what I don’t recall. I just remember thinking, “finally, a real conversation!” We were connecting on a newer, more intimate level, and we were both smiling and enjoying each other’s company. He offered me and my friend a ride home and by the time he pulled into my parents’ driveway, he had confessed that there was something about me he admired. I was different than other girls, it seemed. I wasn’t sure what he meant but I liked that he was just thinking about me. As I said my goodbye to him from the other side of his driver’s side door, our eyes met and I remember feeling like I was looking deep into his warm soul. He asked me to lunch and after accepting his invitation, he kissed me lightly on the lips and said goodnight. It was perfect.

A few nights later, Jake met me at my friend’s house. Her parents were away and she was having a small party. Jake was on his way home from seeing the Grateful Dead. We chatted a little then I walked him outside to his car. We stood there in my friend’s driveway saying goodbye and then he leaned over and kissed me like I had never, ever been kissed. Jake’s lips were soft and strong against mine, and he slowly and softly grazed my upper lip with his tongue. It was heaven. My knees literally went weak. I had French-kissed other boys before, but this, THIS was a kiss that shook me to the core. He left soon after and I ran back into my friend’s house and screamed, “OH MY GOD, JAKE IS THE BEST KISSER!!” My girlfriends still remember this explosion of excitement and emotion.

We spent just about every night over the next two weeks together. He would sometimes stop by and visit me at the park where I was a camp counselor and every night we ventured off somewhere…a friend’s house, a party, or some secluded place where we could talk and kiss. And when we didn’t see each other at night, we’d talk on the phone. I had never felt so comfortable and enamored with anyone. Finally one night, after driving me home and sitting in his car in my parents’ driveway, Jake asked me, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” and I replied with a big smile, “If you’ll be my boyfriend.” And we sealed the deal with a kiss. I was Jake’s girlfriend!

Unfortunately, things kind of went sour from there. One night he “unintentionally” blew off a double dinner date. He apologized profusely the next day, begged for my forgiveness, and gave me a single red rose. The next thing I knew, he was leaving for a month-long counselor-in-training gig in Rhode Island but never said goodbye. I was crushed. Devastated, really. Blowing off the dinner date hurt my feelings a lot and made me question his sincerity, but then not saying goodbye to me was brutal. You know the saying, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” I decided right then and there it was over and I would never let him hurt me again.

Jake sent me a very impersonal letter from Rhode Island once, but I never wrote back. I was hurt and wanted Jake to pursue me after what he had done. Maybe he was just as insecure about me as I was about him, or maybe he just lost interest, because he never called. Never stopped by.

School started back up in September and we simply avoided each other. Even when I came to school with two black eyes from an unfortunate field hockey accident, he didn’t show any concern. Months later, in December, we were both in Vermont again and forced ourselves to speak privately. I was hoping this would be our moment of truth. That he would apologize for hurting me and beg for me to give him another chance. But Jake was as elusive as ever, telling me he didn’t know why he never said goodbye, that he was confused and “fucked in the head.” Were we both too proud? Too scared? Too hurt? Or was he just really not interested. I wasn’t sure. So again, I swallowed my true feelings and decided that any future with Jake was impossible. It was time to move on.

Only it wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jake. I had seen something in him that summer that I had never seen in anyone else. I had felt something with him that I had never felt before. And at least at that time, the feeling had seemed very mutual. But nothing between us was changing. We traveled to Utah with a group over our February break and while he paid me a great deal of attention and even bought me a birthday present, he never tried to talk to me about us. He seemed content with what little we had, and sadly I accepted that. It was better than nothing, I guess. About a month later, he started dating another girl. I kept waiting. And hoping.

And then three months later, in May, he handed me a letter. He had written it after seeing me at a party and trying to talk to me. We had both been under the influence of something that night. The letter was raw and you could tell he had written it when his guard was down. He explained how he couldn’t get me out of his mind, that he knew he had “fucked up” our relationship the previous summer and regretted not trying to make it work. He wrote that he thought we shared something special that made us right for each other now and in the future, and that he thought he was in love with me. Needless to say I was dumbstruck. The words in Jake’s letter were everything I had always, always hoped to hear from him. The problem was, he was still in a relationship with the younger girl.

So in true high school fashion, I wrote him back an angry response asking him how he could say these things now when he was still with the other girl and how could he continue to play with my head and heart. Didn’t he know that I still loved him this whole time? I regret that letter, because what I got in return was more or less an, “Oops,” and something like,” You weren’t supposed to read those things yet.” Again, I was crushed and humiliated. I had had enough of Jake messing with me. I was done.

A few nights later, Jake called and asked me out to dinner to pay off a bet he had lost with me the previous summer. At that point, I had tried my best to move on and was actually casually seeing some other people. What better way to mend a broken heart than to jump into another relationship? But with my guard fully up, I agreed to meet him for dinner. I don’t recall much of the night, but I learned Jake would be leaving for Colorado soon. He was deferring college for a year and exploring the Colorado ski resorts as a lift operator in the fall. Would I ever see him again?

The summer whizzed by and before I knew it, it was my senior year and I was head over heals in love with someone new - one of the boys I had started seeing over the summer. Jake was gone and I was having a blast as senior. But as the cooler weather blew in, so did my thoughts of the upcoming trip to Colorado in February. And then in early December a letter arrived postmarked Aspen, CO. It was from Jake. He was living in Aspen taking a chance at life. I was envious and curious. He inquired about my love life, complimented me on my skiing, and joked about missing the annual fun in Vermont. He shared that he was really looking forward to seeing me in February when our high school group would be in Vail. My heart ached again. I missed him. I wrote him back, and again, in true high school fashion, bragged about my new boyfriend. I wanted him to feel the pain I had felt. He didn’t write back.

February rolled around, and Jake was scheduled to meet up with us for a couple of days in Vail. I was anxious about seeing him again, especially now that I was in a relationship. I knew seeing him would stir up some feelings. But our Colorado encounter was disappointing. Jake came to our condo one night and I barely spoke with him. I was trying to act all cool and aloof. The only thing I remember him saying to me was, “I thought you didn’t date guys that did drugs.” And I replied, “I never said that. That wasn’t the reason…I was not the one who walked away.” And that was the extent of our exchange. We didn’t even really ski together during the week. It was a sad trip for me. Jake and I stopped corresponding after that.

I graduated from high school that June, then was off to college. Jake and I ran into each other a couple of times during our four years of college. Each meeting made my heart skip a beat and brought back a lot of feelings I thought I had let go. Occasionally, I would catch him looking at me from across the room but our exchanges were always awkward.

Then during my last week of my senior year of college, I learned that Jake’s former college roommate, Ned, had not only transferred to my college but he was good friends with one of my roommates. Ned had told my roommate that Jake used to talk about me all the time, about what a wonderful girl I was and how in love with me he had been. I was 22 years old and about to enter the real world when I heard this, and all I could think was - maybe I still had a chance.

Then in the winter of 1994, eight months after graduating from college, I was in Utah with my friend from high school and her family again. Jake’s family was on the same trip. I knew he would be there and hoped he and I would have a chance to speak. Our group skied together for about four days, and during those four days Jake and I had little interaction. Were we avoiding each other? Finally, on one of the last days of the trip, Jake and I shared a lift ride, just the two of us. We made polite conversation until he suddenly asked me, “So how long have you and your boyfriend been together?” I had been wondering the same thing about Jake and his girlfriend…were they serious? We ended up having a conversation about how broken both of our current relationships were and how we both wanted to find someone who loved skiing as much as we did. I remember sitting there, on the cold, snowy chairlift thinking, “What about me? I’m right here, Jake…I available!” But again, I said nothing of the sort because I assumed he wanted nothing to do with me. And somewhere deep inside me, I was protecting myself from more pain.

Then seconds before we got off the lift, Jake said, “I wish I had done things differently,” and I stupidly replied, “That’s the story of my life.” What?! What did HE mean? What did I mean?! What just happened? I wanted him to know I wished I had been more honest about my feelings for him, but my vague response only left more room for more confusion. If there had ever been an open door to a new beginning with Jake, there it was and I had accidentally knocked it closed. The trip came to an end. Jake and I sat diagonally across from each other on the flight east, not saying a word to each other. We all changed planes in Chicago and I watched Jake run off to catch his flight to Charlotte, while I waited for my flight to NY with the rest of the crew. No goodbye. Nothing. I wanted to cry. Again.

In the summer of 1998, Jake married his college girlfriend, the one he complained to me about, and I married my husband. We ran into each other that Fall. It was an awkward encounter and it was painful for me. We were adults now, older, wiser, and embarking on new worlds with our spouses. Although it had been obvious for year, for some reason I felt such sadness from the reality that we had no place for each other in our lives. Not now, not ever. The chance for us to even be friends was gone. I knew I would never see or hear from Jake ever again.

I play in a youth orchestra around my neighborhood. We had a local competition (not really big) and one cellist won. I had never really noticed him since our orchestra was pretty big (all the high school students around came here) until he won. He soloed with us and blew everyone away with his awesome performance. Then, I looked up after everyone had just finished playing, and his bow was still in the air, and our eyes met by accident for an instant–the tenth of a second (I was near him). He stood up to bow, but I sat there dazed. I was in love.

I later went home to think about why I was crushing on him suddenly. In my opinion, he was not especially cute or handsome or had a nice body (he was fourteen), but his musical skills were great.

He was the shyest guy ever, with an ever-dominating father who pushed him to succeed. I was the shyest girl ever too, and since I was homeschooled, I did not know any of the high school students in the orchestra. So I was mostly a loner; during break, I would escape to the bathroom and wait until break was over. I tried to be friendly and outgoing, saying “hi” to other people, but it’s like I’m invisible. No one ever even bothered to look at me, so I felt pretty depressed. All my mom’s friends and some adults I know say I’m very pretty, but I don’t have such a good self-image of myself as I am so unpopular.

So I tried to sleep and get over my crush as I decided it was hopeless. However, that night I had a dream about him. We didn’t talk or anything, but I saw him and I got this warm feeling inside. I pretty much stared at him until I woke up.

So I still have a crush on him. I hope one day to get the courage to talk to him and maybe be friends at least.

I realized from that point that my teammate would be my crush two years ago. First, I was shy talking to him. But the training including the third member of our group, makes it possible for me to be normal and to be open.

We exchanged numbers and talk and laugh everyday. I figured out from my classmate that he like me and that it should never be told anyone. I was hoping he would say that directly.

But then, time is not on my side. Our contest was coming and when it did, I realized that it would be the last get together of our team. Weeks pass, I found that he have a girlfriend. No communication from then on.

Now, after 2 years, we’re in college. He’s my classmate.