I know seventeen sounds too young to fall in love, but I know in my heart that's what I experienced. Love, pure and sweet. I had been traveling with my parents to our new house on the East Coast. We decided to stop in Nashville and see the sites for a few days. It was in one of those little tourist-tailored gift shops that I met him. Dark hair, blue-grey eyes, and a beautiful smile. He was working there for his summer job. Danny, or so his name tag read, mainly made smalltalk with my parents, but occasionally he'd glance at me while he spoke. He told them of some of the other places he had to visit, places that generally weren't known to outsiders. My mother was excited to see a few of them, and Danny mentioned that his uncle could probably get us a deal on buying tickets to seeing one attraction. We thanked him and planned to see it the next day.
To my delight, Danny had shown up with his uncle to be our official tour guides, and while they both talked with my parents, Danny was soon talking only to me. Our conversation diverged from what we were seeing to our summer accomplishments thus far, our hometowns, and our favorite movies. I felt a connection with him that I felt with no other before. With my parents' permission, the next day Danny took me to a lake he liked to visit while my parents saw some boring shops.
In those few days I spent with him, I felt I couldn't leave. There was so much more I wanted to know about him. I thought I could never meet another guy like him. He was perfect and made me feel special. We exchanged numbers, and he promised to text me. He did, for a while. I want to say that he felt the same connection I did, that he called or emailed me often, that we didn't let distance separate our love. I moved to Nashville when I was eighteen, and we married after a couple years, with me being the happiest I had ever felt. But that would be a lie. Soon, our correspondences grew fewer and fewer. Life happened, and the distance disinterested him, or maybe someone else stole his heart. I was crushed when the reality hit me that we couldn't be together, but I moved in. I am engaged to Matthew, a co-worker I met eighteen months ago. He is more devoted to me than I think I am for him at times. Our love is mutually mature, committed, and tender, and he truly understands me like no other. If I thought I'd be happy marrying Danny, I am at the state of complete bliss at the prospect of spending the rest of my life with Matthew. Why am I writing about Danny then? I want to think back on my folly to remind myself of the mistakes I made but that it was okay to make them. It's to remind me how wrong I was about Danny and how right Matthew is for me, and that the world does get better, even if the days ahead look as black as death.
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