As we all know, the perfect romances come from some sadistic man named Walt Disney. His perfect stories of balls and Cinderella's romance set up little girls for a shitty real life experience of date night consisting of Franzia and vomiting on his roommates bed- hey, if you're lucky, he'll call you baby and hold your hair back. Who says chivalry is dead?
As much as I have to complain about men, I do have one man who I will always be thankful for slash hate for ruining me at the same time. My first love wasn't just any type of guy- he was f-ing perfect. I'm not kidding. If he was perfect, you ask, then why are we not together? I was the asshole in this one.
When I met Matt my sophomore year of high school, he had went to a different school than me. Football player, straight A students, hot as hell, and nice as anything. I got a winner. For close to four years, Matt and I were attached by the hip. We would use the swing over his creek, go out for ice cream, lay under the stars and tell each other how perfect we were for HOURS. If I was sick, Matt would drive the 25 minutes to bring me soup and to lay with me until I felt better. He surprised me with things and made me feel special. We were only a high school relationship, but we were different. I can honestly say those feelings that I had for Matt are what ended up getting me in trouble.
By the time our second summer together had come, Matt was still the most perfect boyfriend in the world. Carly, Rachel, and I had our boyfriends over for a holiday cookout to celebrate July 4th. The boys cooked out and we had absolutely nothing to worry about.
Matt and I left the cookout a little early to go back to his house for our separate evening. He had laid out a blanket covered in rose petals for us to look up at the fireworks (it was the 4th of July). He has sparkling grape juice (an under aged choice since we were still 16), and I had lost my virginity to him that night under the stars. FREAKING PERFECT.
This is where I get crazy.
Since Matt was perfect, my standards for him stayed that way. If the poor guy was 15 minutes late, I would cry. He was always on time! If Matt would want to change plans on me (didn't happen often), I would think he didn't want to be with me. When I didn't get the usual flowers for making the cheerleading squad, I was convinced it was over. It wasn't at that point, but my attitude pushed our relationship right to the end.
I blame myself for expecting so much out of him, but I blame him for being so perfect in the first place. There was the opportunity for us to get back together, but it was too far gone-
this brings me to my point. Since I found my perfect guy so young, I had no experience and no idea how to handle the situation. I thought everyone was like that which is why my expectations are still screwed in this area. High standards are great, but sometimes, I think it's okay to give a guy a break.
T
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