STORYTIME: My First Heartbreak

This is an “excerpt” from my old journal, which I named “The Diary of a Battered Women: A Comedy.” It talks about how I’m finally starting to feel truly single and independent, which is a monumental achievement for me considering I’ve been obsessed with boys since the ripe age of 12 years old. I think about why I turned out the way I did, and I try to figure out when it all started. If you want to read my STORYTIME posts from the beginning, start from my first one: Moving Back Home and keep going until my story stops!


Perhaps it’s because the boys front has been quiet for a couple days, but I feel truly single. At least right now. I have a ton of things to do in my personal life, so realistically…I shouldn’t even be thinking about men. However, it is always lingering.

Is this my addiction? A desire to feel needed by a man, always? The more I think about it, the more I truly feel it’s a problem. My desire to feel adored by a man that I actually want is suffocating–deeper than any other vice I have. Weed, cigarettes, alcohol. Damn. Sometimes, I just want to turn my emotions off.

Is it because I’ve been in nonstop relationships ever since I was young? Another problem of mine is this… *breathe*

Whenever I meet a really hot guy that I’m actually interested in, I fucking SLEEP WITH HIM ON THE FIRST DATE. Sure, I’m being free and spontaneous and just giving no fucks because I don’t want a relationship, but I seriously need to stop that shit.

*Repeating to myself*

“Need to be a classy lady, need to be a classy lady.”

I think I have trouble concentrating on my own personal goals because I’m so used to a man being THERE for me in order for me to function. Instead of focusing on being independent first, I always found that being with a man helped give me the strength to be productive.

Think about it. I’ve been a serial dater since I was 16. There has always been a guy in my life–supporting me, listening to me, giving me attention. After nearly two decades of this, it’s no wonder why I can’t function when I’m alone. Truly alone.


When I was 12, I was accepted into a prestigious exam school. It was basically Hogwarts except for the fact that it was all work and no magic. You were considered a highschooler starting in 7th grade, and needless to say, when I started–I was terrible at school.

I barely scored passing grades. It got so bad that when I was 13 and on the brink of flunking out of my classes, I finally decided to go see an after-school tutor. The school provided an option for kids my age to receive guidance from older, honor roll students.  I ended up being assigned to this nerdy stud, let’s call him Tim.

Tim was a couple years older, super smart, and looking to build his resume. He wasn’t quite the looker, but his talent, potential, and sheer confidence was simultaneously nerve-racking and attractive to me. He was my first real crush, and for all the right reasons, and I was absolutely infatuated with him. Perhaps it was because I looked old for my age, but he could tell I had a crush on him, and he ended up asking me out.


I think our first date was at the library in the city. We simply walked around, did some chatting, and maybe got some Starbucks frappucinos like any normal high school couple. From an outsider’s perspective, we looked the same age. Blah. But when you’re a 15-year-old boy and your girlfriend is 13, it’s a huge age and maturity gap. Even though I looked older, it did not cover up the fact that I acted like a child. A way younger child than him. Not to mention, I didn’t take school seriously…because I was 13 and I was obsessed with my boyfriend. Our priorities weren’t aligned.

Tim and I dated for the grand total of three months, but I know he felt my immaturity and lack of focus–because…well, he eventually dumped me. DUN, DUN, DUN. My first heartbreak!


I remember it clear as day. It was raining and Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together” just came out on the radio. It was an average day, and I wanted Tim to come over to my place, so we could hang out. As we were walking to the bus station, he told me he needed to talk to me, ah, that’s the line. We needed to talk, but he wouldn’t tell me until I was safely at home. On the bus, I repeatedly asked if he was breaking up with me, and he said no.

“If you’re breaking up with me, just say the word ‘meatloaf’ or something so I know.” I told him. He simply laughed it off, stayed quiet, and looked out the bus window as we got closer to my house.

After walking me back to my apartment, he sat me down in my bedroom and explained that I was just too young. He needed to focus on school. He wanted so many things for himself, and he just wasn’t ready to have a serious girlfriend just yet. It was a distraction. His friends all made fun of him for having a young girlfriend. He was too busy to give me the attention I wanted.

Where was my head at the entire time? In my 13-year-old heart, it felt like my world was crumbling down. I blurted out, “…you never said MEATLOAF!”

I ran from him and locked myself in the bathroom to cry. He waited outside for a few minutes, trying to comfort me from the other side of the bathroom door, but I was too busy breaking down. Tim ended up leaving. I was huddled in there crying for a full hour after I heard the front door close, before finally going back out. At the time, it felt like my reality had shifted.



Damn, memories of my first heartbreak. It hurt like a bitch. I remember it took me two years to move on from Tim, but during that time, I decided that maybe if I got my shit together, worked hard to receive good grades, become a high-ranked student, joined the volleyball team like he did and become GOOD, I would eventually win him back.

*Eye Roll*

So there you go, my main motivation to become successful and strong was all centered around a boy. I eventually did become an honor student. I became captain of my varsity volleyball team, became a prominent student, and I got a full scholarship to college. I faced my deepest fears, from trying out for a sports team to singing solo on stage in front of a packed auditorium. I joined the school newspaper, choir–I did everything. 

By the time I achieved these goals, I had attracted other guys…more attractive, more successful, more intelligent, and I eventually moved on. Tim’s opinion didn’t matter to me anymore. Despite doing all these things to win Tim back, I had changed into someone else entirely.

No wonder 15 years later, I’m caught up in this fucked up dilemma, rethinking my decisions and my lifestyle. If my main foundation for success was all sparked and maintained by GUYS, where could I find my own drive for ambition? Right now, I feel so close to finding it on my own, but a part of me still lost, trying to find the way.


My friend Tyler (recap: Who Keeps the Dog? Stealing Simba Back From My Crazy Ex) got to know me over the past few weeks, and he said that I need to love myself more.

Perhaps that’s true.

Perhaps before pursuing men, or burying myself in male distractions, I needed to learn how to care about my own wellbeing and health. Maybe in order for me to grow into my ideal self, I first need to practice self-control, restraint, and patience, because eventually, the right person will come along WHEN I’M READY.


I know the right things to do. The hard part is putting it into practice and following through. That’s all for now.



Tamera and Jay Get Married

Today, I accompanied my sister to her friend’s wedding in New Haven. It was small, humble, boisterous and beautiful.

Apparently the mother of the groom-to-be passed away last week, and her memorial was held just yesterday. Tamera, the bride-to-be, spent the entire year planning their wedding, and wanted to postpone the date because of the unfortunate circumstances. Due to the funeral costs, the groom, Jay, was worried about whether or not he could afford the wedding. At the same time, he did not want all of Tamera’s hard work to be for naught, and strongly refused to postpone it.

Tamera and my sister work together as infant-care specialists at a local daycare center. Earlier during the week, one of the parents asked Tamera about her wedding. She responded, “We might have to postpone it…” The parents nodded their heads and took their baby home.

Later that night, Tamera received a text message from the baby’s mother, “Just thinking about you. Was wondering if you could tell me the reason why you are postponing wedding…” Tamera didn’t want to delve too far into the actual story, so she simply told them, “Financial issues, we’re going through a rough time right now.” The baby’s mother texts back, “You’re like family to us, and you are so great with our kids, we are lucky to have you. Please accept $1000 from us so that you can keep your wedding. Don’t postpone it.” After much thought, Tamera texted back, “Thank you…but no thank you. We cannot accept that.” It was in a grey area of the daycare rules. Professional life should not be slipping into personal life. However, after one last push from the baby’s mother, “Please accept it as a wedding gift from me and my husband. We are lucky enough to have well-paying jobs, and we can afford to give you this money. Like I said, you are like family to us, and we want you to use it for your wedding. We insist.”

After my sister told me this story, I thought it was beautiful that there were still such generous people in the world.

And that’s how they kept their wedding date.

Anyways, I went to this wedding — the second wedding I’ve ever attended in my life (family don’t count). It was simultaneously happy and sad, loud and tranquil, disastrous and masterful, rude and respectful, and needless to say.. lots of shit happened.

I don’t even want to get started on what occurred on the dance floor. Those children were like baby professional dancers. I shit you not, there were four-year-old kids doing jump splits on the dance floor. FUCKING JUMP SPLITS! Everyone went up and did the electric slide, the walking dance, and it was also the first time I’ve ever witnessed a real-life soul train. Loved it. Everyone was free, uninhibited, and absolutely gorgeous.

You could feel the love the bride and groom had for each other. Tamera spoke about how she first met the man of her dreams. Her rock. She spoke about their family, and how she was so happy to spend the rest of her life with him. Jay pretty much said the same thing, and he hilariously compared her love to a three-layer chocolate cake — which has scarred me for life, since I LOVE chocolate — but his heart was in the right place.

What really hit home for me were the speeches from the Best Man and Maid of Honor. That shit really got to me. Even though the Best Man clearly prepared a lengthier and more quality speech compared to the Maid of Honor, both parties spoke positively about the bride and the groom. They spoke about how they respected them both so much because they each brought the other stability and happiness. They were perfect for each other, pushed the other up, supported one another, and completed one another. I listened to their speeches in both awe and sadness.

This was a solid foundation for a marriage.. with loving friends and family surrounding the bride and groom. Unlike the way I did it. No one was at my wedding, there were no vows. Tamera had a beautiful dress. Belle of the ball! I had a cocktail dress that I bought from Forever 21. We just walked into City Hall, said “I do” to a judge and BAM. We were married just like that. With none of our loved ones to see. I never want to do that again.

Watching Tamera and Jay’s wedding made me think. It made me realize that you should be proud of the love you have for someone. It also made me realize that marriage was more than love. It was hard work. It required trust and patience. It required a strong foundation. Something me and Pierre did not have from the very beginning.

(You can read my first post here: Back at Home)