A Long Time Ago

I once loved a boy who broke my heart. I met this boy at work and he liked me and I avoided him. I wasn't into dating people I worked with, because it didn't work out once before. And how do you tell someone you are not into him when you have to see him every day at work? He asked for my number, I said no. He asked one more time and I relented and gave him my beeper number. He called, and invited me to his frat party, I declined.
The boy called and flirted and pursued. I gave in because he was cute, had a accent, was tall and had hands I could marry. Then I started liking the boy, and found myself calling him more then he was calling me. I found myself checking the schedule at work to see when we would see each other again. I found myself not wanting to stop kissing him.
Then I found one of his books from school. I found it while cleaning his room. I found the words in his handwriting, Greg Loves X. The words hurt more then a slap in the face. The words were my slap in the face.
I stopped talking to the boy, and my heart hurt. I missed him, but I turned my love into hate. He called months later claiming to be a changed boy, a boy who missed me, a boy who thought about me. I started to see him again, even though the voice in my head, the one that is almost always right, said it was wrong. One day I finally mustered up enough courage to ask the boy if his heart was still with his first love. He looked at me with the beautiful green eyes that I loved, and I knew. The boy wasn't my boy and maybe he never was.

I found out a couple of months ago that the boy is finally marrying the girl he always loved, his first love. And although I am married and have two beautiful babies, my heart hurt again. It hurt because I loved him, I thought we could be together, it hurt because it was unrequited love, it hurt because I didn't want it, but gave in and it hurt because it wasn't me.
It never was.