The first time I saw him, I knew he was trouble. His warm smile invited me to him, beckoning me closer and closer to more trouble. I knew what I was getting in to. I knew the danger and saw the red flags. My mind comprehended it, and predicted the future but my heart did not care; it wanted what it wanted.
He was a people’s person and everyone loved him. I was no exception. He loved me too, or so he said. But he was not ready for commitment. He did not know how to be in a relationship. He said he did not want to hurt me so we would be better off as friends. His words hurt like wild fire but I put on a show.
I am still too young to be in a relationship, I responded. Deep down, I cursed the day I noticed him. I think he knew how much I loved him, but protected my pride. A day would not go without him looking for me. He said he could not function without me. I guess in his own twisted way, he actually loved me.
I still remember his scent, his charming smile and warm eyes always welcoming me to him. I remember the first time he kissed me. I was asleep but still felt him. So every time he was around, I would make sure I fell asleep. And every time, he would steal a kiss. I would reminisce about his mouth on mine the whole day and would not let my mouth touch any other thing. Not even food. I did not have the courage to tell him how I actually felt. It was not my part to take the first step; my culture had taught me that.
I grew up. I fell in love. I have loved people more than I ever loved him. I have made sweeter memories that he can’t match up to. We met again some time back. He was now ready for me and was ready to commit. He knew a thing or two about girls and wanted me; nobody else. He had never forgotten about me. He had never stopped loving me. But I had. I had someone I loved more than I have ever loved anyone else. He was too late. I still remember him though. I still think about him at times; for he is the one that got away.