Love is Not a Feeling, It’s a Choice

Now, this is hard to really, truly see at twelve years old. To know if I was just obsessed with doodling Mrs. Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was inside hearts or if I could truly see him as my lifetime companion and the father of my children. I knew that this was impossible to tell at such a young age, so I made a promise to myself to wait, however long it took until I knew.

Of course, my crushes came and went. I shared my decision with my mom and asked her to help me stand by it. She did – even when that meant making me turn down a guy I really, really liked. I cried and cried and felt like she had ruined my life, but she really did have my best in mind – he didn’t even hold the same values that I did. That would have been a big mistake.

Then, at fifteen, I really did meet the one. I didn’t know at the time – it was by no means love at first sight. I thought that he was loud and obnoxious and extremely gawky. But he made me laugh and he was fun to be with. He had just turned sixteen and was a friend of a friend. He friended me on Facebook and messaged me to ask for my number under the guise of needing it for contact during at upcoming group meet-up. I realize now that I should’ve seen right through that because we were meeting at a movie theater with all of one entrance, but hey, I was fifteen.

After the meet-up, I didn’t hear from him for a while. Then, out of the blue, he started texting me. And he kept texting me. Every single day. We talked about the silliest and most stereotypical teenaged things: music, food, tv shows, parents, siblings, friends, school work. He started asking me a random question which he called an “RQ” every day, and, through this, we got to know each other. After a few months, I could tell you his third favorite color and his potato chip flavor preference. When he turned seventeen, he started coming to church with me and we would often get together to hang out in groups.

 


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