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I was eighteen when I met my first boyfriend, recalls Wes Ferguson, and we both became somewhat infatuated. He was tall, dark, and handsome, I was a twinkie white boy with light eyes. He had a few ex-boyfriends under his belt, while I'd just slept around. Up to that point I was too uncomfortable with my sexuality to commit to it, let alone someone else. Having feelings for another boy meant I had to accept that I was gay, as though somehow having sex with them didnít. But alas, I was insecure, inexperienced, and still finding my way.
We realized we'd fallen in lust with one another, and were boyfriends within a month. The university he attended was about an hour and a half away, and we maintained a long distance relationship for the next year. We filled the time with phone conversations, emails, love poems (well, my love poems), and weekend trips to stay with one another.
We realized that we truly cared for each other, shared similar interests, and the sex was great! The passion was clearly there, however things outside of physical communication weren't so innately tuned into one another.

I had a certain idea that boyfriends took a little extra time and concern for their better half, perhaps even babied each other a bit. Instead I constantly felt more like the trusty old sweatshirt that was always there, somewhere, at the back of the cupboard. I was scared to lose the only love I ever had and it seemed he was growing distant. At the time I was overcome with emotion, while he seemed to be without.

The intense feelings of desire and passion soon began to test the level of fulfillment we got from our relationship once it moved beyond the initial spark. Finding that we did care for one another so much made me question for the first time what love was. It made me realize that there were certain qualities I liked in a person, certain characteristics complimented me (and vice versa), and those were what I wanted in a boyfriend. That was when I decided that as long as I communicated my desires and expressed how I should be treated (i.e. adored), things would be different. Meaning, ultimately, that he would be different.

As time went on, everything a textbook scenario might indicate about a couple where one person is very needy and the other is more reclusive attacked us. He said he loved me but I felt that he pulled away every time I got too close. He would constantly bring up old boyfriends, and I would worry when I didnít know where he was. When there was a considerate moment between us, it reminded me of how everything used to fit, and that feeling of security was what I really wanted.

What should have encapsulated our relationship and ended it took place within a year and a half span; we met, found an attraction, went out, got to know one another, discovered that we didnít make a great match, and broke up.

Then we got back together and everything repeated itself for the next three years.

I continued to struggle with wanting his devotion versus finding happiness on my own. His attention fulfilled me, but faded just out of reach when I needed it most. The more times we broke up, the more times the pattern repeated itself. He would act distant towards me and I would respond with feigned indifference, which he would try to feel out. Eventually I'd open back up to him, and when he realized I was still attracted to him he was satisfied and turned his direct attention elsewhere, leaving me feeling suddenly very empty. It was like someone was trying to hand me a prize and run away at the same time. I'd been so busy being involved in the game I hadnít really stopped long enough to think about whether or not I still wanted to play.

Then there was almost a year where we were apart, and something changed. I'd become more confident, and he had matured as well. We no longer resembled the kids we'd been when we first met. Even though we had one last, very short affair (I said we had great sex!), I knew a romantic relationship was out from the beginning, seeing as I already knew how it was all going to play out. We talked about the importance of our friendship but never aimed as high as getting back together, although the thought did slip over his tongue, even if just for old times sake. I realized I'd finally let go when I had a dream where I literally pushed him out of my bed. My mind was telling me he didnít belong there anymore. I knew we had a new relationship, one where our love for each other was just as strong, but in a different way.

It's been a number of years since we last split. Weíve both been in love again but have remained very close. We still speak to each other almost everyday, and have a better relationship than we ever did as a couple. Can it be true Ė love, heartbreak, and a happy ending? Believe it. What I've learned is that you donít always get what you want, at least not the way you thought you wanted it.

And for the record, I wouldnít trade any of it for the world.

 

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