Ashley

There's no particular reason I felt like talking about this subject today, but there's a story I guess I've been wanting to share with you all. This one should be fun for the narration, tonight's another sleepless night, and my first class of the day is in about 5 hours. I'd recommend listening to this one by using the SoundCloud playlist on the right hand side of my blog while doing something else, because this is gonna be a long one.

Let's talk about the first girl I ever loved. Her name is Ashley.

As much as I'm embarrassed to admit it, it took me years upon years to get over this girl.

You've heard her name here before-- I started this blog back in 2013, (holy shit, that's a long time,) when I was still dating her. When everything was over, a few months after this blog was made, I dedicated a post to her called "The Story of Ashley," which I promptly deleted after some time. I think I've given the whole situation enough time to die down, so I wouldn't consider this creepy at all. In fact, it finally feels nice to look at her from the perspective of an old friend of mine instead of someone I either hate with all my heart or desperately crave the attention of.

The reason I've decided to share this story with you all today is because I've been more willing to give myself closure in regards to everything. Ashley is also an extremely important chapter in my life, and one that shaped me into the person I can proudly call myself today.

You know, every time I've talked about her post-breakup, my hands shake as I type. I wonder why that is.

When Ashley and I met, I'll admit that I thought she was a beauty. I'd been crushing on another girl in our friend group for months to no avail. Funnily enough, the girl I was crushing on had taken a week off of school for some reason or another, and it was on that week that I met Ashley.

In that school library, I hung out with the people I called my "friends". It was tough to cling to them because they were all so young (as I was, too,) and they weren't really the types of friends to listen to my problems, or which I had many. I was overweight, totally annoying, suffered from extreme social anxiety, and I was horrible at talking to people. The people I hung out with back then were basically all I had, you know?

I don't know what it was about me that made her approach me in particular, but when she did, I was astonished. I remember I was in a phase where I really enjoyed drawing. I was drawing Roxas, a character from the Kingdom Hearts series. The drawing was actually pretty good, if I might brag. Everything looked just about right, but there was something wrong with the picture that I just couldn't put my finger on.

"The arms are too short," a voice said suddenly. I looked up, and I didn't see anything. Before I could mutter a single word, the person to my left pressed her finger against the paper, and said, "look, his arms are too short." I turned to her. I looked up and saw a girl, not too skinny, nor too fat, with a mousey face and light brown hair looking back at me. I was stunned, paralyzed even.

She sat across from me at the otherwise vacant library table, where we talked for a little while. Unfortunately, I can't remember distinctly what we talked about, but I do remember exchanging numbers with her before our lunch period ended. That day on the bus, adrenaline was pumping, and I swung my legs in the seats in anticipation of getting home and texting her.

She was a joy to talk to at the time, but it wasn't like I had any reference to compare her to. The only other girl I'd really talked to was this girl Anna that I mingled with a year prior. That's another story for another time.

The most heartbreaking thing, I thought, was when she mentioned that she was always bored and lonely on the weekends. It was then when I devised a plan to gather all of my friends together and go to Rainbow Lanes bowling alley, and I'd invite Ashley to come along with us. Think of it like a low-pressure date, where I could get close to her. We planned it for Friday, the following week, and every day in the halls between classes, we'd talk and eagerly look forward to the day we'd get to go out.

And so the day finally arrived. I had my mom drive me to the bowling alley, where I stood outside talking to my friend, Hailey and playing the original Final Fantasy on his PSP. More people came in, and we began to file into the bowling alley. I was soon nervous that she wouldn't be able to show up. She was the only reason I wanted to go to the bowling alley, after all. Not terribly late however, Ashley arrived through the doors, where my party greeted her.

At the bowling lane, our party of around seven socialized about this and that. It's been so long so, again, I can't remember what the whole conversation entailed, but what I do remember that I kinda got this vibe from Ashley that she might not have liked me as much as I liked her. From that point on, I was kinda feeling a little upset, but didn't take it out on the others, and especially not Ashley. I continued to talk to the other friends as the night went on.

A little while after, once we'd bowled a game or two, it was off to the arcade with us. The friends were scattered about, some of the people riding the "Himalaya," others climbing about in the jungle gym-- everyone except Ashley. I found her sitting on the floor against a wall next to an arcade machine, looking at the floor. Naturally, I joined her, and sat next to her. She told me that she felt left out of the group, and that she wasn't having a great time. That's when I put my arm around her, and promised her that this night was going to be the best night of our lives. And maybe, just maybe, at least on my part, I was right.

I grabbed her by the arm as we looked at and played various arcade games together. The group then took to playing a game of pool, where Ashley and I competed against each other. I remember the two of us sharing a berry blast Ring Pop at those pool tables. I remember the smile on her face, and the beauty of her green-hazel eyes on that night. I remember the way my heart beat out of my chest as we grew closer and closer to one another. Most of all, though, I remember the moment when I realized that I was in love, as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom that night, unable to sleep.

The next day was my mother's wedding to my stepfather, Chris. If I wasn't so engrossed with my love for Ashley, I would have been miserable seeing my mother make the mistake that she did. I spent the whole time texting her, with numbing butterflies of excitement and anticipation flooding my stomach with each reply.

Weeks passed, and the two of us continued to text feverishly. At school, I loaned her my copy of The Hunger Games, and she returned it to me the following week with a sticky note in the back, thanking me for letting her borrow it, and letting me know that she was always a text away if I needed someone to talk to, and included a little heart beside the message. The subject of love interests came to the forefront of our text conversation, and she asked me if there was anyone I had a crush on. I think she knew the answer, but I didn't know how she felt about me at the time. When I asked her, she sly dodged the question by saying, "well, I do have a crush on this one guy who hangs out with me at the library a lot." That's when I knew that she was talking about me, even though something inside of me, deep down, wanted to deny it.

I summoned my courage for the first time in my life for the next day of school, where, in the library, I asked her to be by girlfriend. She said yes, to my delight. Our relationship began on March 13, a date that, when I see it, even to this day, my heart skips a beat.

Ashley and I were just kids, so this was all new to us. The last thing I was thinking about was disrespecting her boundaries in a sexual way. We'd spend our entire lunch periods for months on end just hugging each other. In my arms, I remember her scent-- the intoxicating smell of her laundry detergent.

And this continued for a while, I'd say about a month or two. The feeling of being in love was the most intoxicating feeling I can remember. Even to this day, it feels so exciting and gives me the sensation of butterflies. It's without a doubt the best feeling of all time: adrenaline, dopamine, and shortness of breath.

Dating life was the best, because we'd share these tender moments where she'd lean on my shoulder at the movie theater with all of our friends (the same ones from before, you know).

The thing is that Ashley was my best friend. Every moment beside her was nothing short of the bliss that comes from the explosive drop of your favorite song from your teenage years in the cool fall breeze.

Our first date as a couple began in the sweet early-spring. It was a few hours before sunset; The orange-cream sky painted me and the painted wall of the Howell Theater I leaned against. The gentle breeze carried the sound of the distant church bell, which pierced the silence of the small, sparsely populated downtown Smithfield.

She arrived, in her pink Hollister shirt, jeans and Converses. We strolled about the block, ice cream in hand, before our movie began. I laughed so hard that I cried, and I'd honestly give anything to know what I laughed so hard about in those carefree days. The movie, a romance, gave us something to talk (but also argue intently) about. There wasn't an unsweet moment about a night so perfect.

We were only children, back then though. And even though I was learning what it was like to feel in love, I was growing in ways I'd never imagined. I shed my thin and sensitive skin; I traded it out for the comfier, more confident and self-loving skin of a lover who was complete with his significant other. Alas, our fateful pair was soon to face their first trying moment.

One of the new kids in our group, a shrill, skinny, sickly-looking boy named Cole, was a friend of Ashley's from her childhood. He'd constantly make passing flirtation with Ashley and always assured me that I was lucky, and that if I hurt her, I'd have to deal with him. I was never too intimidated by Cole-- he was kind of a shrimp, and I could, even before I got these sweet muscles I have today, totally beat him in a fight.

A couple of months had passed since we first got together, my birthday was coming up, and I believe that my mother was in the hospital for her gastric bypass surgery at the time. I stayed at my aunt's place for the couple weeks until she could get home, because I figured that I could spend some time with my family.

Ashley was acting a little weird around this time-- she wasn't really responding to my texts, and when she did, she was kinda short with me. I knew something was wrong when I told her that I loved her, and instead of replying with the usual, "I love you too," she simply replied with a smiley face. It seems a little cold of her thinking about it today, but I think, more than anything, she was having a bit of a crisis of faith in our relationship. I finally cracked through her shell, and that's when she told me how she was feeling.

"Jacob, I'm so sorry, but I like him. I like Cole. It's always been Cole. He's always been here for me."

My heart, if it wasn't shattered into a million pieces, most certainly fractured. This was also a first for me: the first time I've felt that looming sickness of a brokenheartedness.

This was a time in our relationship I promptly like to repress, but I know that I felt every range of emotion. At first, it was pure and solid sadness. I was paralyzed, because I was just starting to really really feel what love truly meant. I felt betrayed, almost, because she didn't talk to me about it before confronting me, and I felt guilty for whatever I did wrong.

I was faced with a choice, and under the circumstances of never loving anyone else in my life the way I loved her, and craving everything about her and the true ending to our story, I decided to fight for her, no matter the cost.

It took a week, and I texted her, kept in contact with her as much as possible. I couldn't let her forget me. Of course, I don't think I was bothering her-- I most certainly wasn't intentionally harassing her, but I needed to let her know how I felt. Somewhere along the way, I used the perfect combination of words to win her back. Wouldn't that be a nice ability to have permanently? This wasn't the thing I said to make her reconsider her actions, but one of the things I do remember saying was that I didn't even get the chance to kiss her. She replied, "well, go ahead then, kiss me. I'm not dating anyone at the moment, so it doesn't matter." This response caught me off-guard, but it gave me some insight into what she was thinking. I think this line is what gave me the strength to push though, and win her back.

Toward the end of the week, Thursday I think it was, I laid it all out. I told her that I wasn't done loving her, and that I didn't want to give all the love I had to anyone else. She told me that she felt the same, and that, if she was honest, every time she heard a her phone vibrate, she was hoping the message was from me.

The two of us reunited at school, where I officially asked her to be my girlfriend once again.

This section, which obviously consumed most of the relationship, was when our relationship really bloomed. It would be impossible to capture every moment here in a single post, because I can think I could go on forever about the wonderful times Ashley and I shared together. For the sake of this post, I'm going to give you a very rough timeline, along with the memories that mean the most to me.

Our love, the single feeling, the emotion that I want to believe that Ashley and I once shared, was a titan among everything else I've ever felt in my life. We began our journey, our ascension, by spending more time back together outside of school. Fridays were the days we shared our most intimate moments together.

I made Ashley a mix CD with all of my favorite songs so that I could share them with her. She loved it, and it went on to be a "thing" that I'd do for her every now and again as a present. The melodic punk-pop of the Mayday Parade that defined our relationship jived well in what I initially would have thought a jarring combination with Asking Alexandria and I Set My Friends on Fire.

We sat together on the couch the first time I went over to her moms, and we'd watch movies like Harry Potter and Jumanji. She hopped in my arms, wearing that cute, dumb little smile she wore. She dressed in cozy basketball shorts and a t-shirt around the house, and I've never thought anything could be more precious.

But it wasn't until one Friday, when we lay in the comfort of her tiny room in that house that felt like home, that my world was turned upside down. We snuggled with each other on her bed, leaning against a wall. After smashing me in a game of the game of Dots and Boxes we played on her iPod Touch, we found ourselves remarkably close to one another. Everything in that moment felt completely peaceful, and the universe was calling my name. The song Sing by My Chemical Romance, from the mix CD I made her, came on from the stereo in her room, and I gazed into her innocent, and perfect eyes. I was feeling numb inside, as if I was asking her to be my girlfriend all over again. Our faces inched closer and closer until our foreheads touched. The rest was pure instinct, what we did. And as the song dropped, our lips touched, and we were making out, each moment amassing more passion. And when our eyes opened, and our lips were no longer kissing, I pulled her back in for another. Each moment became more precious than the last.

But she never got along with her mom, and so she moved into the trailer park where her father lived. Her father is one of the coolest parents I've ever met, and I couldn't have asked for a better potential father-in-law. He was friendly, but not too friendly. He became a friend of my family, and I felt like I was able to talk with him. He was admittedly vulgar, but when I interacted with Edgar, I felt like I was talking to a friend.

The routine shifted from going to her mom's to going to her Dad's house, where we would spend afternoons helping her father make dinner and watching anime and Smackdown together, and after dinner, we'd return to her bedroom, where, on that old air mattress on the floor, we shared some of our closest memories. The thing we had in common that made us happy together is that we could just make out for hours on end, which led to some even more intimate moments. I won't go into it, but I'll have you know that I didn't score a home run (yet).

Our favorite date was dinner and a movie. Before one of our favorite movies, Warm Bodies, we enjoyed Chik-Fil-A and some passive conversation. I think what made our relationship so great is that, toward the end, even though my feelings for her burst through my chest every time I thought of her, she was the perfect person to spend lazy days with. We could just go through a Netflix series together, her nestled in my arms. Just being close to her gave more happiness than I could possibly ask for. We had such great banter, Ashley and I. She was, for the time we were together, my very best friend.

Things progressed in our relationship, and we had done everything else (intimately) except for having sex. The only natural progression for us was to move even further beyond. It was in January, if I remember correctly, when we finished our end of the semester tests. My stepfather Chris picked the two of us up from school early, and it was the first time we'd be home completely alone. It started out like an ordinary day we hung out; we made out, hands moved to more inappropriate places, and then it just sort of happened. She was nervous about the whole thing, and so was I. I think she carried some apprehension, because she told me that she'd never been with anyone else. I might as well had not been with anyone else, because my sexual experience before Ashley was unremarkable and meaningless; there was no love or intimacy involved. It was as if I was losing my virginity, and if I could have given it to her, I would have.

We were pretty sexual people, Ashley and I. I will admit that I was probably the more horny between the two of us, but I (at least hope) didn't bother her too much with my advances. We had this thing where, when we'd lie in bed together, we'd talk about the future and all of the weird, deviant places we could have sex. I remember that we agreed to have sex in a Canadian movie theater one day, which we found funny, but also kinda hot. I know this is getting kinda weird, talking about a girl I'm no longer romantically-involved with, so I'm just gonna leave it here.

The final memory I want to trace upon was prom. Every high-school boy wants to take a beautiful girl to prom, and so I was in luck when my junior year rolled around, and I was able to invite Ashley to go to prom with me. I got fitted for a tux, and bought her a corsage for the occasion. We had a blast hanging out with our friends, but I regret deeply how nervous she was. I was ready to tear up the dance floor, even though I suck at dancing, but she was extremely shy when it came to that kinda thing, so we stood in the back room of Marble's Kids Museum and slow danced where there were few people to see us. Other than that though, I had a great time, and I hope she did as well.

The relationship wasn't all sunshine, though. I'm not going to go into detail, because I'm not trying to blame her for anything that's in the past. I guess the most mild way of putting everything is that we grew apart? I mean, I never really felt like things were going south, but maybe that was just my sense of optimism and blind, raging love for her. She, like in the case with Cole, grew more distant from me emotionally. She was becoming more interested in other people than she was with me, (not throwing shade here,) and I felt emptier for the last month we were together. I'd gotten really stressed, and began smoking as a result, which she didn't find out about because she hates smoking. One afternoon, I called her on the phone. It was the most emotional phone call I can remember having.

There were plenty of dramatic pauses, and I don't know why I said what I did, if I'm completely honest. It just felt right, even though I loved her with all my heart. Some part of me needed to let go, even though I was constantly telling myself that I needed her to function. I asked her if we should break up. This question was filled to the brim with self-doubt, but when I reassessed the situation, she told me, "no, Jacob. I think you're right, and I'm breaking up with you." I was crushed, and I pulled a 180. I shouldn't have peeked over the edge into the terrifying unknown void, because the faint wish that became an echo in my mind finally became reality.

Let's not linger on the feeling of destruction I felt; there's no point in opening those wounds that closed years ago. I'll let you know that I was pretty shaken up, and that I never really got over her until I met Jessie. You never really forget your first love, you know?

I tried to get her back, and after a few days, she started giving me vibes that we could make it work again. If only the dude who she ended up getting with after me didn't butt into our relationship, there was a good chance I could have made things work again. Again, I want to clarify that there's no ill will, but I will say that Kevin totally pussy vultured me there.

I am kind of glad things turned out the way they did, though. I was able to experience life without worry or jealousy, because I did find myself suffocating in jealousy toward the end of our relationship.

If there's one thing I regret, it's how I treated Ashley after we'd broken up. I was an emotional shipwreck, so one day, I'd try to be friendly and hang with her, and others, I'd talk shit about her behind her back (and sometimes to her face). It was shallow and immature, and I'm not excusing my behavior. Sure, I had a thing or two to be mad about, but she didn't do me wrong, per say-- I was just mad at the situation.

I think what tore me apart was how happy and successful she was without me. I mean, I'm proud of her for all that she's done, because she's a very talented and intelligent individual, but it made me sad to even think that I didn't give her life as much meaning as she gave mine.

A couple years later, during my sophomore year of college, I saw Ashley on Facebook, and decided to add her. I wanted to squash the beef and apologize for my part. It was quite refreshing to talk to her after all that time, and she seemed genuinely happy! Of course, I got those feelings again. It wasn't love for her, per say, but it was the longing for the love that I felt for her. It kinda stung talking to her after all this time to see her having so much fun in college while I was struggling with one of the most difficult times in my life. I will admit that I was a little rude to her, and I feel bad about that too. There are just themes here of me being a bitter asshole. I genuinely would like to be friends with Ashley again, but I don't wanna inadvertently hurt her feelings.

The last time I ever talked to Ashley was actually extremely pleasant, and I'm totally glad we got a chance to bond again. We talked on the phone about what was going on in our lives. She expressed her newfound love for the works of H.P. Lovecraft and asked for my advice in regards to her boyfriend. I think it was healthy and natural, and I'm proud of myself.

So, the one person who actually made it this far is probably asking, "Wow, so what's the point of all this? Clearly you're still obsessed with this person after writing what's probably your longest post of all time about a relationship that ended over 5 years ago." I guess you can say that I probably asked myself the same question, too. Clearly, the feelings of love for Ashley aren't here anymore, and I'm glad, if I'm honest. If I still loved her, I'd be a pretty darn sick man. What I think does remain, though, is my admiration of the relationship.

It's so easy to write off a long relationship like that off by saying, "yeah, he/she was a bitch, I'm glad it's over," when there are so many incredible memories. My memories are what make me who I am, you know? They're some of the most important things I still have of the past. My oddly-specific memories aren't just limited to memories of Ashley, but everything that made me happy. The chronicles of Jacob, and the fun times I've had are what inspired me to keep up with this blog, because I want to keep these memories immortalized. Plus, Ashley was the first girl I ever loved, so she'll always have a little place in my heart. Everyone remembers their first.

I'd like to commemorate this as sort of a 5 year anniversary post, even though the five year anniversary has already passed. I know that Ashley wasn't the reason this blog started, but I sincerely believe that the grief that I felt from the loss of her is what drove me to move from Japanese study into writing about and exploring myself.

I hope you're doing well, Ashley. I think this is going to be my final post about you, if you don't mind. I think this was my final step in understanding that I owe it to myself to stop clinging to the memories of better times, so that I might move forward to a brighter future. Thank you for making these memories with me, because, as you can see, they do very much mean the world to me, and it would be a crime to not have them in the library of my most sincere memories. Feel free to drop a line sometime; you know my email.

Whew. That's done! My hands hurt, and I'm ready to go to sleep. Thanks for the read, and I hope you all have a nice rest of your day!

Take care,

Jacob