Forgotten Memories

I had a boyfriend, once.

I mean, I have had several boyfriends. Five, to be exact. Most of them were pretty insignificant. It was chill. The first I had an on-and-off thing with for about four years, beginning in elementary school. That was interesting. The third was a rebound from the second (who I will get to in a moment) that was orchestrated by mutual friends, but he ended up being gay. (Which is totally cool, and he is still a friend.) The fourth... that one I like to pretend never happened. Not much about it was good. I did learn, though, not to date anyone with the same birthday as me. The fifth was only two weeks, and I learned then how quickly I can get over a guy. I also learned that I have a knack for becoming attracted to co-actors because of their character they are playing as opposed to who they actually are.

My second boyfriend, who I will be referring to as Bob, had a much larger impact on my life as a whole than any of those four did. It was my longest relationship, ten months to the day, though Bob was involved in my life for much longer than that, both before and after we were dating.

I didn't much care about anything before I met him. Yeah, I read some books (and was infatuated with Edward Cullen at the time) and played some video games (I was, and still am, in love with Riku from Kingdom Hearts) but that was about it. Aside from spending some time writing fan fiction, I didn't do anything. The clothes I wore were hand-me-downs. I had friends, but I wasn't really SUPER close to anyone. I had things I liked, but I didn't share them much. As Bob told me once, as unkind of a thing as it was, my personality was like a blank slate; he said one of the reasons he pursued me was because he figured he could make me into exactly what he wanted me to be.

He was partially correct. Before I continue, in my defense, I was fourteen for most of this, therefore I forgive myself for my vast stupidity. Anyway, he managed to make me do what he wanted me to do, wear what he wanted me to wear, and like what he wanted me to like. With a few bumps in his path (like my unwillingness for certain activities, given how innocent I was), he did succeed in making me what he wanted me to be. It became who I was, and I essentially let him control me. He would come over to my house every day. We would usually watch a movie or play a video game. He would secretly text other women. I knew, yes, but I never said anything. I didn't want him to be mad at me.

This pattern continued for a pretty long time. In the summer, things were better. He went to the beach with my family and certain events happened there where he became pretty agreeable to almost anything. He was actually nice to me for most of the summer. Then school started up again, and people became involved. Things began to spiral downhill from there. But what he didn't see coming was a change in me that I didn't even predict. I had gone from not caring about anything, to caring about what Bob wanted me to do, to finally caring about what I wanted and needed. Maybe it was because my time with him during the summer had been so great that it opened my eyes to the way our relationship should have been. Maybe he was just so crazy around Christmas-time that I eventually snapped. I still don't know.

Things had gone back to how they were before, but I wasn't so willing to let it happen. When he did things I found suspicious, I would question him. I didn't do whatever he asked me to. I was becoming my own person, and I don't think he much liked it. A few days before our ten month anniversary, things were changing drastically. Because, dear planets and earth and stars and sun, there was a day when he did not come over to my house. This was a huge deal. For ten months (I repeat, TEN MONTHS) he had come to my house every single day. It was extremely obvious that something was up. And then, on the morning of our ten month anniversary, my mother texted me and told me that Bob's therapist had told Bob's grandmother who had told my mother that he was going to break up with me.

Long story short, there was an all-day spectacle and he did break up with me that day. I am pretty sure the entire school knew what was going on. I was very famous from that relationship for a while, not to mention identified by it. About a month, I think, later, he ended up moving into my house. I don't remember how long he lived with me, but there was a good chunk of time where I wasn't over him, and I am pretty sure he had sex with his new girlfriend in my house. Before I was over him. It was pretty unfortunate.

But, like before, something eventually made me snap. I wouldn't say it was overnight, though thinking back on it, it does seem like it was very sudden. I was over him. Everything he was doing, everything he was, just wasn't what I wanted. And I was finally able to see that. A change happened in me then, and that change is what made me who I am today.

This story was relevant, I swear.

I had a dream about him last night. I think I saw him in some movie theater, probably going to see The Hobbit (because I am obsessed), and somehow we ended up talking and in a room, and I was lying on his chest (don't know how; it was kind of deformed for the whole time I knew him. He is skinnier than I am, I think). Nothing else happened, except for my family being extremely upset with me and me having to explain that, seriously, nothing happened between us.

Obviously, I woke up eventually. And I thought about it. I tried to dig into my memories of that relationship, just the good ones, but there aren't any. I remember some of the pictures of us on Facebook, and little facts of things that we did. But what about the important stuff? I can't remember how I felt. As much as I dislike the boy, technically now a man by age I suppose, he had a huge role in shaping who I am, even if it didn't turn out how he planned. And that evolution in me was emotionally driven. But I can't remember it. It completely consumed my life at the time, but I can't remember what it felt like to be in love (or at least think I was). I can't remember what it felt like to kiss someone I cared about romantically. I can't remember what it felt like to do anything in that relationship.

And that horrifies me.

If something like that, something that huge and important and such a big deal at the time, that only happened five years ago, has been all-but-forgotten, what does that mean? Ten years from now, what am I going to remember? Just the facts? Is it in human nature to forget emotions, or am I just weird? As much as I feel like I was stupid and that I should have seen how unhealthy that relationship was sooner, I want to remember what it felt like. I want to remember feeling the happiness, even if it means remembering how miserable I was half the time too. 

I've considered that maybe my mind is blocking it out, those memories, because it thinks they were traumatic. I've had some family issues, and my mom tells me sometimes that my brain's way of coping with all of the emotional stress is for it to completely block it out, leaving me in an apathetic state. Until now, though, I haven't seen a problem with it. I didn't realize it was going to block out everything.

If my memories of emotions are blocked out, is my ability to feel them as strongly blocked out too? My fifth relationship; did I only get over it so fast because my mind blocked out the emotional hurt I felt? I mean, since then I have liked people, but never to the degree I did with Bob. And, while it has never seemed strange to me before (I mean, I can't fall hopelessly in love with everyone; I assumed I just hadn't met the right person), now I'm not so sure. I feel like, instead of growing into someone stronger, I've grown into someone who is emotionally stunted, where before I was so open. It doesn't feel like I've grown. It feels like I've shrunk.