Teardrops on my guitar

How do you pick the person you want to be with forever?

They say you meet that person and just know. But what happens if you meet that person and you "just know" -- but they don't like you?

I've been there. His name was Jason and I was 16 years old. I met him when my best friend at the time moved away. I went to stay with her for a few days and met up with her at play practice. She was on stage and I was sitting in darkness in the back of the room. A few other kids were at a round table next to me, talking and getting ready for their scenes. Then Jason walked in.

When he introduced himself, I recognized the name. She had told me all the names of people in her class - the cute boys, the nice girls, the ones she thought she would be friends with. I knew all of them. I had a list of the people I was most looking forward to meeting when I came to visit. I think he was number seven on my top 10 list. Not too high in a class of 22.

I didn't think much at first. He was tall and wearing a gray sweatshirt. I think he had just come from basketball practice. He sat down at my table, and we talked a bit. I don't remember what about. He opened up his bookbag and pulled out the biography of some golfer. He had to write something up for class that was due tomorrow. It looked like a big project, and I knew he also had the play. I asked if he needed help, and he said no.

We didn't talk too much, but we didn't have to. I watched the way he interacted with the other kids, the way he moved. There was a hint of shyness in his eyes and smile. Just enough hesitancy in his confidence to show you he wasn't full of himself.

It didn't take all night. By the time Leah and I got in the car to go to her house, I was bursting. "That's the Jason from your class?" I sputtered. I couldn't believe she hadn't mentioned him more than she did. He wasn't who she thought was cutest. I would meet them tomorrow, and they paled in comparison.

I spent five days there. I got to know him a little better. We said hi, shared shy smiles. We still didn't talk much, but I watched him interact with others in class, in the hallway, in the theater production. I find more truth in obversation than I do in spoken words.

When I went home that Sunday, I sobbed. I was hysterical. I wasn't sure what had happened or why I was so upset. I just knew that I was leaving. And maybe I also knew that I was driving away from something I might never find again.

I saw him occasionally on visits. I spent five more days there the next year. This time they were the two leads in the play. They had a kissing scene. I thought I was going to die.

Almost two and a half years after I fell for him, I wrote him a letter. I've always been driven in my writing. Writing allows an outlet that my shyness won't permit face-to-face. It was a sweet note. I told him how much I liked him and how much I loved getting to know him. I ended it with a quotation from a famous movie, a movie I still cringe to watch to this day, as it brings back the embarrassment of that letter! But I'm not really embarrassed -- I'm proud of myself. I would do it again.

He wrote back, telling me I was a sweetheart but that he already had a girlfriend. I knew as much. I wasn't sure what I expected. I'd already experiened more powerful feelings. This was just a gentle closing of the door that was only peeking open anyway.

I haven't felt like that again, and I can't say that I've even come close. When I try to track my feelings for different guys and potential relationships, I always see a huge dropoff after his name in my mind. No one even close.

Whenever I'm faced with the choice of a relationship, he always come back to me. "Can I see myself liking [insert name] as much as I liked Jason? Do I like [insert name] as much as I liked Jason?" Not even close.

Whenever I think that love isn't real or that it's all just a mirage, I look back on five years ago, how the sight of him would make my knees weak, and I think, maybe it's out there. Maybe it can happen again. I can't stop looking for it. I look for him, the feelings of him, in every guy I see. I won't settle. I can't settle. Not when I've already seen what it's like.

People grow up, and they change. I wonder if I would still feel the same about him if I met him for the first time today, and I'm not sure. It's been so long. But I'm still so thankful that I met him, that I have something to hold onto when I feel like the forever kind of happiness has brushed me to the side. Because I would rather be alone, every day of my life, than to pretend to love someone like I loved him.