He loved me for seven years before we got together. I knew, but pretended I didn’t. We mostly sent each other mixed CDs and cryptic poetry. To clarify: We dated when we were 18. He fell in love with me at 11.
When we left for college, he said, “Don’t forget about me.” I immediately did, except when I came home for breaks and we occasionally kissed under a streetlight. I never chose him, but I loved knowing he would choose me. I didn’t realize how cruel that was.
I’m happily married now, but I still think about him often. I hope he has someone who chooses him every day.