I was getting ready for what would’ve been a typical Thursday night for 15-year-old me. I put my fencing uniform on, and put all of my extra gear in a repurposed golfing bag. I hopped in the car, and my mom drove me to practice. Once we got to the convention center where our practice fencing sessions were hosted at, I briefly struggled with getting my awkward-to-handle bag out of the car and wheeled it through the front doors. I found a table to set my bag on so I could unpack everything and get it all set up. 

    Just as I got done unpacking my things, a woman whom I had never seen before walked up to me and introduced herself. Her name was Mary and she told me about how she was new to our club and she was going to help Chris (our coach) with certain things. Then, Mary introduced me to her adopted daughter, and that is when my heart began to beat twice as fast. I had the most intense butterflies in my stomach, and to be honest I’m quite surprised I was able to think straight. She was breathtaking, with dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, a cute face, and a very friendly demeanor. Now, this girl had a rather unique name, so I’ll call her M to avoid giving away too much information. M and I talked for a bit before we decided to do a drill together. The one we chose involved trying to hit each other with our fencing gloves while using proper footwork and techniques. It sounds silly, but it actually was a pretty good drill to practice footwork and distance. We took turns going back and forth, attacking and defending, until I lunged just a tad bit too far, and now that she had the initiative she moved her hand forward- right into my face. My glasses fell forward as my head was knocked back and I stumbled to find my balance. I instinctively covered my face in an attempt to protect myself as I tried processing what just happened. M quickly raised her hands to her mouth as she gasped and began to frantically apologize. After taking a bit to recover, and maybe shedding a tear or two (listen, it was a solid punch, okay?), we continued doing the drill again. At least, we did, until she accidentally punched me for a second time. Thankfully the second punch wasn’t as bad, but by then we were done with the drill anyway, and both of us were ready to actually fence, so we went our own separate ways for the rest of the night. 

    M was now a member of the fencing club, so she showed up to all of the practice sessions and we began to talk more as we got to know each other better. I still got butterflies in my stomach everytime I saw her, it took a long time for that to go away. As we got more comfortable with talking to each other and got to know each other better, she more or less asked me out when she offered for the both of us to see a movie together at a theater. We decided to watch Green Book (a movie I would highly recommend). It was hard to properly pay attention to the movie, though I do surprisingly remember most of it. Things were normal until about halfway through, when our hands began to inch closer together, and next thing I knew, we were holding hands with our fingers interlaced. My heart was racing, and my palms were practically spraying sweat as if they were sprinklers. M rested her head on my shoulder and though it took a while, I got more adjusted to it and was able to relax more as our thumbs raced across each other’s hands. 

    That was more or less the beginning of our three-month-long relationship. We took turns hanging out at each other’s houses, where we would generally watch a movie, talk for a little bit, and then eat before one of us had to return home for the night. One of the most memorable things I did while we were together was being driven around in a car with M and her adoptive parents to go to an event where she played the flute in front of judges. I’ve never really been interested in woodwind instruments, but I did actually enjoy her performance, and I thought it was pretty good. I also had to act as a human stand at one point and hold her notes for her to read while she was practicing. 

    About three or so months after our first date at the movie theater, I got a text while I was in art class, “Can you call me when you get home? We need to talk.” We need to talk. Had I known any better, I would’ve realized that this meant M was ready to call it quits. However, at this time, I had no previous experience with relationships, so I was optimistic. I thought she was going to take a moment to share just how much she liked me, we were going to get along great, and live happily ever after. Oh how naive I was. I called her and greeted her with an excited voice, I couldn’t wait to talk to her as it’d been a while since we’d last spoke. Of course, she used this phone call to break the news that she didn’t wanna be with me anymore, and the only reason she gave was that she just didn’t feel the same anymore. My first mistake was being in denial for way too long. I literally spent a whole year telling myself that one day she’d realize that she made a mistake and she’d ask me if we could get back together. That lie made the breakup much less painful, because it allowed me to convince myself that it wasn’t really a breakup. At the time, I thought we got along great. It felt like we just knew each other so well, and she joined the club at just the right time, surely it was meant to be! As cliche as it sounds, that was what I genuinely believed at the time. Looking back, I can pretty clearly see that our relationship didn’t really have a whole lot of substance. Younger me wasn’t much of a talker, so there was a lot of awkward silence, but it just didn’t seem like it because we would always distract ourselves from the issue by watching a movie or just cuddling and holding hands. This wasn’t a sustainable way to engage in a relationship, so it’s no surprise that it didn’t last very long. 

    Now, at age eighteen, I can safely say that I’m over M and I don’t long for her anymore. Though there are plenty of lessons that I learned that I’ll never forget. Interestingly enough, that first heartbreak actually made me less nervous to talk to girls and ask them out in the future. Now that I’ve experienced it, I know it’s not the worst thing in the world and while it may take some time, it will pass eventually and I’ll be stronger as a result. It also taught me about some red flags that I should’ve spotted at the time. One that really sticks out like a sore thumb to me now was when she was talking about how she would’ve dated a certain other person if she had the chance. Yeah, she said that to my face, while we were dating, and somehow I let her convince me that I shouldn’t worry about it. Lastly, while I was getting over M, I learned the importance of self-care and looking after my own mental wellbeing. I spent so much time stressing over her and trying to help her when she needed it, only to realize that if I needed help from her, she would’ve turned her back on me. It’s important to be there for friends and loved ones, but making someone your top priority when they are unwilling to do the same is just asking to be betrayed. Overall, I’m glad that I experienced the beginning, middle, and end of my relationship with M. Even though it was painful, I am fortunate to have learned from my mistakes and I will carry those lessons with me for the rest of my life, because I refuse to have experienced that feeling of loss without at least gaining something from it.