An old friend once told me that they were bisexual. I blame her for my mixed feelings later on that month.

I remember sitting across from her, staring. She'd look up, raise an eyebrow and ask what I was staring at.

I remember going to her birthday once, and realizing how funny she was.

We talked for a while, and then I went home.

At the end of school, after we were friends for a whole year, my other 'friend' told her I liked her.

We had been keeping that a secret for a while.

I don't remember who asked who out.

But I do remember her talking to me about liking me and some random dude who now, in high school, irritates the fuck out of me.

Long story short, we got together.
I remember telling my aunt one day to tell my grandma, out of fear of her doing something irrational.

I didn't want The Girl to feel like I wasn't committed in our relationship.

No matter if my grandma was homophobic or not, I would date this Girl.

She was not happy, my grandma. Told me a lot of shit about me going to hell etc.

It didn't hurt me, I don't think.

Not as much as me and the Girl breaking up did. I don't remember much of that either.

I loved her, maybe.

I still get that ache when I think of her.

I'm sad to say, if she asked me to date her again, I probably would.

I don't think anyone understands the desperation I feel to be loved willingly.