Love, Fate, Hope and All the Things You'll Never Get

I don’t ever expect you to tell me that you love me. All I want is for you to know that I do. I could write long stories about it, but for me, nothing compares to those three little words.

That was the text message Danielle, my high school girlfriend, woke up to. Five years later after our falling out, she was coming out of a long relationship and I was entering back in to her life. Fate. It appeared that it was the most perfect time except I am leaving for Afghanistan in a few months. Five years later and I was making the same mistakes I always do; getting involved when I was leaving and now, telling a woman that I love her when there is no chance of her feeling the same.

When I first told her how I felt she was still in a happy relationship. Well, she was happy. Her boyfriend found a few skeletons and some minor bickering had him distancing himself. Just a fight, and Danielle wasn’t going to throw all that away on a womanizing, drunk just because he could put how he felt eloquently on paper. No, I had wronged her too many times for her to ever embrace the reformed Joe Wells. Loving, caring, hell, even happy.

Yet here we were, night after night on the phone, talking about her and Adam, her, all the other guys that wanted her and every now and then, me. The conversation was great and when I closed my eyes I saw us walking home from school, like we did all those years ago, before we moved out into the world. Then as the night went on, we would talk about us, how it seemed like there was still something there. Fate. Long ago we said we would be together in the end. Long ago, I would do anything to be with her. Long ago, we loved each other.

She could never say it though, especially now. She just had her heartbroken and she didn’t really know me anymore. This is the real world and you need a lot more to work up to those three little words. Unfortunately for me, I don’t live in this world. For I know everything I have done, every person I have hurt and every whore I have fucked. I know she could never do worse. That is how I have been able to keep the flame burning for so long.

But it is a double-edged sword, for it keeps my love for her just as strong as the first time I looked into her eyes and knew she was the one I was going to marry, those same choices push her away from me. She wanted to know how many women I slept with and I refused to tell her. No woman should ever know how many pussies their ex has had to enter, trying to forget it all.

So we talk, smile, laugh and I try not to tear up like a fag. As our conversation comes to a close, we lie in our respective beds, alone. I listen to her breath, slowly drifting into sleep, and wonder if I am the last thought on her mind. Finally we say good night and I listen to those last few, slow breaths. I can feel her heart rate slow and relaxed. She may not dream of me that night but at least I can still bring calm and peace over her. At least she knows everything will be all right.

The smile on my face as I begin to fall asleep fades as I realize that I have fallen further into the past than I believed. For what we have now is not the good times Danielle and I had when we dated, no, it’s ninth grade. We are walking home and I am carrying her book bag, it’s too heavy for her. I’m listening to all her problems with boys, none of which include me. I’m hoping and praying she will recognize me. Recognize my love for her and reciprocate it. I am a fool. I hold my pillow tight that night.

I am a fool in love.