Why Was She So Special?
I recently tried to explain to a friend about having my heart broken by my first love, about how I had thought she was the "one." My friend asked me, "Do you think she was the one? What made her so much more special to you than other women you have dated?"
I would like to try to answer those questions here.
At the time, I thought she was the one. I couldn't imagine going through life without her by my side, and certainly couldn't imagine it with anyone else. Now, looking back, I'm not so sure. I see her marriage and my marriage (they're not the same marriage!) and they each have their problems. I don' t know if the intensity of the passion, the love, the closeness, the friendship would've overcome the intensity of the differences. I don't know if we would have come to accept or despise one another's quirks.
What made her so much more special? I have a hard time answering that -- not because I don't know, but because I can't describe it well. I could use many adjectives to describe her -- smart, beautiful, kind, funny, caring, etc. -- they would all be true. But the adjectives fall flat, sound so banal.
I could describe how we were together, how we travelled together, how we were best friends, how we were amazing lovers with one another. That might come closer to describing why what we had was so special, but it doesn't begin to describe why she was so unique to me.
And so I find myself having to describe myself in order to describe why she was special (isn't that a typical male self-centered thing to do?). Much of this, of me, is described in my other experiences, so I won't go into a lot of description here.
Growing up I was bullied by peers, never accepted into any group, never had any friends growing up. Although the bullying by the boys was the most intense, the rejection by girls as I became an adolescent also affected me. Yes, I eventually found a few people who I could count as friends, and a few women who would date me. None of it was serious, and no one was I close with, no one did I reveal myself and open up to.
When I met my first love, I was dating a few other women like that. Dinner and drinks, some shallow conversation, maybe even some sex if I were lucky. As soon as I met this one, though, I had no desire to be with any of the others.
She came to know me as no one else ever had, or ever has since. And she wanted me in spite of it. No, she wanted me because of it.
I visited the house in which she grew up. I saw how her brothers and her father loved her. I saw myself as part of that continuum -- that as she grew up that the torch was being passed from her father to me as the man who cherished her.
After a while, she decided that we weren't right for one another -- which really means that I wasn't right for her. I still held on tight for two more years. Finally I understood that it wasn't to be. I still miss her.
During that excruciating breakup, I tried to explain to her. I told her that I loved her. I told her that this was a love beyond which I had ever experienced before or would again. I told her that she would not find anyone who loved her as I did. It was wrong of me to say all that, but I know now that I was right in what I said.