‘My ex-girlfriend has a dress like that. You should try it on. You’d look pretty.’

I turned to the man who was walking alongside me through the shopping mall, as we killed time waiting for the film to begin.

I can still remember his straw-like hair. I can still remember his face, oval and doleful, with heavy blue eyes. What I can’t remember is his name. Let’s call him Mark. 

This was our first date. And it wasn’t going well. But then, neither one of us really wanted to be there.

Mark was still obviously in love with his ex-girlfriend. And me? Well, I’d spent the night before kissing somebody else. 

It was late April 1995. I’d arrived at the University of Oregon about a month before and thrown myself into university life. One of the first friends I’d made was John.

You know that dress that is hanging in the back of your closet? You bought it on an impulse, because you loved the way it looked in the shop.

You took it home and for the first few weeks you wore it everywhere, until one day you caught a glimpse of yourself in a plate-glass window and realised it really wasn’t you. You still like it, though, and every time you see it, you smile.

John was like that.  

John was the reason I was on this date with Mark. He’d set us up. It was a disaster from the start. It was never going to be anything else. 

‘My ex-girlfriend has short hair. You should cut your hair. You’d look better that way.’

I should have cared more that my date clearly had his mind on another woman. But I didn’t. 

Because a few weeks before, I’d walked into the TV room in the basement of the dorms and promptly fallen in love with an Australian student. Peter.  

He had dark brown hair, deep grey eyes and a cleft in his chin. He looked at me and smiled, and something inside of me stirred.

‘Oh,’ I realised with a start. ‘This is why I was created. I was created to love this man.’ 

That night, we stayed up talking until 2am. If John was the dress that didn’t suit me, Peter quickly became my favourite jumper. I felt safe around him. Comfortable. Comforted. I never wanted to take him off.

I was disappointed when he mentioned his girlfriend, but I accepted it. We could still be friends. I didn’t care what role he played in my life; I just knew I needed him to be a part of it. 

For the next few weeks, we were inseparable. We’d eat together at the cafeteria, talking for hours over fish sticks and mashed potatoes. 

When his dorm had a movie night, I’d tag along. When mine went out for ice cream, I’d invite him.

Yes, of course I wanted it to be more. But I was willing to settle for less. 

I wasn’t going to moon after him, though, so I’d agreed on this date with Mark.

Then, three days before, Peter and his girlfriend broke up. The night before, we made out. ‘So, does this mean we’re going out?’ he asked me. ‘Okay,’ I replied. ‘But can it wait until after tomorrow? I have a date.’

More from Platform

Platform is the home of Metro.co.uk’s first-person and opinion pieces, devoted to giving a platform to underheard and underrepresented voices in the media.

Find some of our best reads of the week below:

An anonymous writer describes the moment he found out his boyfriend was HIV positive and hadn’t told him.

Adee Phelan made millions in his job as hairdresser and salon owner, all without being able to read. Now in his 50s, Adee is starting to learn.

Mr and Mrs Smith lost their 17-year-old son Harry to suicide a decade ago. Harry took his own life on results day after not getting the AS Level grades he was expecting.

And Maggie Redding, who along with her wife Sylvia, lives in a LGBTQ+ friendly retirement complex, explains how homophobia doesn’t stop once you reach your 80s.

I should’ve cancelled, but I didn’t know how to. I didn’t have Mark’s number. I didn’t have John’s number. I don’t think I even knew his last name. I was 18, and like all 18 year olds, I was a bit dumb. Plus, it was dinner and a movie – what did it matter? 

So I showed up at the appointed time, greeted Mark with a smile, and tried to make small-talk with a man who only wanted to talk about his ex-girlfriend. 

Then, because there were almost two hours to kill before the movie started, we walked through the mall, and he tried to turn me into someone I was never going to be.

We didn’t hold hands as we wandered past the shops, nor did he try to put his arm around me while we watched the movie.

As the credits rolled, I thanked him, and he drove off without suggesting we go out again.  

After it was over, I walked into the TV room and found Peter. He wrapped his arms around me, and we kissed, and we never stopped kissing. 

We built a life together. I followed him to Australia. We eloped in Fiji. We bought a house. We built careers. We had two amazing children. And for 26 years, we were happy. 

And then one night, quite suddenly, he died. 

Without him, I feel raw, stripped bare.

What do you do with your life when your life’s purpose is gone? I’m still struggling to work that out now.

I wish now that I’d canceled that date. It would’ve been fairer to Mark.

More importantly, it would’ve given me a few more hours with Peter.   

So, How Did It Go?

So, How Did It Go? is a weekly Metro.co.uk series that will make you cringe with second-hand embarrassment or ooze with jealousy as people share their worst and best date stories.

Want to spill the beans about your own awkward encounter or love story? Contact [email protected]

Source: Read Full Article