Did you know that I was once engaged to someone other than Ella?
Did you know that I once spent a night in jail?
I have decided that now is the time to tell you about my broken engagement. It's a time in my life that I'm not proud of; love can make you do some truly stupid stuff. Despite the fact that you'll probably think much less of me after you read this, I really need to put it out there.
This period in my life has been weighing on my mind a lot lately and hopefully it'll give you a better understanding of who I am and what I'm capable of. But bear with me because this story will take several days to tell.
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I was a high school junior when I finally got the nerve to ask Lisa, a senior cheerleader, out on a date. Even though we ran in vastly different circles and she was way out of my league, she accepted.
Somehow, it worked. We were star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet. Or Randy and Julie from Valley Girl.
Like a lovesick puppy (and against my parents' wishes), I followed her to the college she attended. Despite the fact that I was only 18, I bought her a Cracker Jack ring and proposed to her during Christmas Break. We made plans to get married the following year.
During spring semester, she told me her classes were becoming tougher and she needed to start studying more. So while she spent most of her free time studying in her off-campus apartment, I started hanging out at the Penny Draft Night bar (Hallelujah, fake IDs!), playing intramural sports, hanging out with the guys in my dorm, singing in a band, and all that kind of stuff. In short, I was living like a college freshman, something I had not done during my first semester at college.
One night, a friend and I went to a bar that Lisa and I frequented. The bartender poured me a beer as I walked in and said, "Sorry to hear about you and Lisa."
"What are you talking about?"
"You and Lisa. You broke up, right?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Dude, she was in here the other night with another guy."
I couldn't believe it. I didn't believe it. So I went to the pay phone (it was 1989; only rock stars had phones that weren't attached to their cars or didn't need to be carried around in forty-pound bags) and called her apartment.
"Lisa?" I asked, my voice cracking. Don't start crying, I told myself.
"Yes?" she replied.
"Are you seeing someone else?" I stammered.
"We need to talk."
Onward to Part II!
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I have disabled comments for this post. I want you to read the entire saga before taking sides, forming opinions, and all that jazz.
Song of the day: All My Little Words by The Magnetic Fields
The Broken Engagement, Part I: The Broken Heart
