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It's the most exhilarating time of any young girl's life-the moment she realizes that she has fallen in love for the first time. It was no different for me. What started my freshmen year of college as a drunk flirtation quickly turned into drunk love.

I was blind-sided by how easily I fell from like into love with him. He shattered all of my preconceived notions about guys like him; tall, good-looking athletes don't always make the best partners. But he proved me wrong. He was funny without being obnoxious, charming without being cheesy, and humble while still being confident. He was a 6 foot 4 inch gentle giant, tough on the exterior when he needed to be, but bursting with generosity and intellect on the inside.

If our relationship was a story, the ending would be a cliffhanger, a jolting deception that would startle a reader and leave them yearning for a happy ending in the sequel. Unfortunately, it wasn't a story, and it certainly wasn't a fairy tale. It was more like one of those so-so fiction novels with a splotchy story line that would have been better had it ended differently.

But it wasn't a story, it was reality. And there's no better reality check than a broken heart. Once you've dealt with the utter devastation of having the one person you trust take every feeling, secret, and dream you've shared with them and throw it away like yesterday's garbage, you finally comprehend the depth of the hurt, pain, and deceit that any and every person is capable of causing. The bitter aftertaste of what once was can sour someone's impression of love for a long time, and I must admit that I allowed it to do just that for me. For months I remained resentful and cold, disgusted by the actions of someone I thought I knew. But he was unidentifiable to me now, a stranger who somehow still had my heart, even though it no longer belonged to him.

It was an ugly decent from drunk love to drunk anger. The few drinks that initially gave me the giddy courage to talk to him for the first time now just unearthed the embarrassment and anguish that I tried to keep hidden. What initially brought us together ended up being my vice, my crutch to put the weight of all my sadness on.

But gradually, I recovered, tucking the memory away into my file of Firsts. The sharp dagger feelings in my chest lessened as I came to terms with how and why I should move on. "First Loves" are called just that for a reason-because more will surely follow. If you were meant to suffer eternally over that one person, they would be called "Only Loves," wouldn't they? So I forced myself to see the lesson in it all. It seems that the more you put in to a relationship, the harder it's going to hurt when it ends, but the hurt eventually turns into happiness. So, regardless of the tears and fears and bruised ego, in the end your happiness will come full circle, and your heart will open up even wider than before, welcoming an even better love this time around.

Learn more about this author, Jamie LB.
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