I suppose I should really mention at some point during this year of posting memories that I did have a serious relationship with someone before I met my husband.
But I don't want to get into lots of gushy, angsty details. So here's the story in a nutshell.
We met in the dorms our freshman year, and by the time school got out in the spring we had declared our love for each other. He came to visit me in Boston a few weeks later. He wrote me passionate letters while I was in Paris that summer. I walked along the Seine, wallowing in the knowledge that I would not see him for nearly two years. Before I got back to school in the fall, he left for an LDS mission in Sweden. I visited his family in Seattle for Thanksgiving once while he was gone.
He wrote to me every single week from Sweden. He said he loved me in every single letter he wrote. Every single letter, that is, until the very last one.
When he got home, he came back to school, took me snowshoeing in the mountains once, then dumped me. I hear he eventually became a podiatrist.
Yeah. That's about it.