I understand. I respect. No, it doesn't really bother me that you think of her. I think I am more jealous than anything that you have all these pleasant things to remember from your first. While I look back on mine and shake my head. My friends and family, when they look back, shake their heads and shrug
. It happens,
they say, patting me on the back in a consolation
You see, that is what happens when you don't trust yourself to make decisions, when you go around like a census taker collecting everyone else's opinion on your dilemma. And of course, the people you ask can't tell you what they really think, if they really love you: they'll force themselves to let you make the decision on your own. They weren't with me in the living room when I broke up with him. They certainly didn't help me lug all my belongings out of the apartment and set up camp on the floor of a girl I had just met who had been banging my now ex-roommate. In that week of deliberation, watching him chug wine out of a coffee mug and slowly lose his mind in his indecisiveness, I was all alone. And I know I made the right choice.
Even now, though, you do not know this. You have better reasons for fond memories that ache in your chest than I do. Maybe this will help you understand why, as much as I look back in time, I do not look back fondly.