My Worst Relationship Essay Example For Students

My Worst Relationship Essay Some things are easier to remember and harder to forget. I can remember my first date as if it happened yesterday. I’ve tried to forget this boyfriend, but he never seems to go away. As I have gotten older I can laugh at the whole thing. That thing I’m talking about is my first real boyfriend and my first date. I was seventeen years old. I know that most people now go on their first date and have boyfriends at the age of twelve, but not me. My parents were strict and wanted to instill good values in me and my brother, so we weren’t allowed out much. My mom especially didn’t want us to grow up, but I turned seventeen, which meant that I was allowed to go on my first date and become the social butterfly I was meant to be. The only exception was my brother had to come along, so this social butterfly was more like a caterpillar. I was fine with it because I felt as though my first date was long overdue; I mean I was seventeen for goodness sake. The day arrived and I was so excited I could barely stand it. I got ready and made sure everything was perfect, which everyone knows it’s hard for a girl to accomplish in an hour let alone a full day. I literally did take the whole day to get ready for an hour date. My brother had a life of his own and was ready to get this night over with, but he also wanted to put the fear of God into whoever the boy was. I have to admit my brother was always there for me and this particular moment I thanked God he was there because I think it would have went a lot worse if he hadn’t come. We arrived at the movie theater about an hour earlier before my date. I was still nervous, but having my brother waiting alongside me was great considering I was still freaking out on the inside and I would have looked like a loser sitting there by myself. My date finally arrived and introduced himself to my brother. Ive wished so many times that it would end there, but it didn’t. After the introductions of each other the awkwardness began. I didn’t know what to say, my date didn’t know what to say, and my brother didn’t know what to say. We went to our movie and the sitting arrangement was as followed: I sat at the end, my date sat next to me, and my brother sat on the other side of my date. Some people like to go on group dates, which I’m totally fine with, but when the â€Å"group† is your brother and your brother aloe it’s torture. I literally couldn’t wait for the movie to start so the silence between all three of us would be filled. I must admit I’m not the average clichà © girlfriend. I don’t necessarily like to be touched and I don’t like to hold hands. I’m not a crazy germaphobe, but I can’t stand when your holding someone’s hand and it starts to get sweaty. My date did exactly that, during half way through the movie he tried to grab my hand. I didn’t know what to do in that moment, but I tried to play it off as cool as I could. I casually told him I needed to get a drink of my water and to do so we had to let go of each other’s hands. Of course he agreed because he wanted me to be happy. What he didn’t know was I would never hold his had again during the whole date. I pretended my hands were cold so I kept my arms crossed the rest of the movie. We were watching an hour and a half movie that felt as though it was eternity. I couldn’t get out there fast enough. The movie finally ended after an hour and a half of torture, and I bolted to the front. What I didn’t realize was the worst was yet to come and what I mean by that is the â€Å"goodbye† that was awaiting me. .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 , .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .postImageUrl , .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 , .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:hover , .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:visited , .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:active { border:0!important; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:active , .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678 .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u94e07435e42d0152bc90e733066df678:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: MGT 515 - INTRODUCTION TO BUSINESS LAW EssayMy brother apparently knew what was going to happen considering he too was a boy, but as for me I had no clue since it was my first date. I had no idea what was going to happen next until it happened. He asked if I wanted to go grab something to eat and I casually made an excuse about how we needed to get home so my parents don’t worry. He understood and then leaned into my face where I played it off and reached for a hug. It would have been less embarrassing if he didn’t walk me out to the parking lot where my brother was and who saw the whole thing go down. I didn’t know at that moment who I was more embarrassed fore, myself or my poor date that I had rejected the whole time. I finally just had to say goodbye and get in the car. As he walked away my brother couldn’t stop laughing, which made me laugh. I felt so bad and was so embarrassed because it hadn’t gone how either of us planned it. As a teenager I had watched so many romantic comedies about how embarrassing dates like this would bloom into something amazing, but I wasn’t on a date with Matthew McConaughey and unfortunately I was/am not Jennifer Lopez. I realized that day that my life is far from being a romantic comedy that it’s more like a sad horror movie. The weekend passed and the school week was on the horizon. I walked into school and my boyfriend was there waiting for me. He didn’t seem mad or embarrassed. He even told me I looked beautiful and that he loved me. I really didn’t love him and was planning on breaking up with him that day. I thought the time had come to end the relationship and I had even practiced in front of the school bathroom mirror of how I would finally tell him it was over. I had also asked advice from my friends and other boys. I had made up my mind that I was going to tell him after class, but then chickened out because I couldn’t stand to hurt his feelings. I had my best friend who happened to be a boy to do it for me. This was a bad idea considering my boyfriend was jealous of him and now I can’t blame him because now we are dating. I didn’t understand how bad it was actually going to hurt my soon to be ex, until he walked into my class. He caused a loud disturbance and was outraged that I would break up with him and do so by making someone else do it. He began to yell and asked in a confused rage why I would do such a thing, and I told him it was over and that was final. I felt bad, but I was glad that it was over. Unfortunately the nightmare had just began. I got home and realized I had a message on Facebook. The only thing was it was from my currently ex-boyfriend, which left me feeling kind of bad because I couldn’t stop laughing at the whole entire thing. The message said I was fake and that I had ripped his heart apart. He went on to say how I played with his heart like a toy, and never wanted anything to do with me ever again. I have to admit as soon as I read the message I told every single person I knew; this was not my proudest moment. The message was just to hilarious though to keep it to myself so I felt as if I had a duty to tell it to people. I should have handled this situation and the relationship better than I had, but I have learned from it and have grown from it. I’m still working on the holding hands thing, but I’m getting there. Now you know my embarrassing and worst relationship ever. You understand know why I want to forget that this whole relationship existed. .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 , .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .postImageUrl , .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 , .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:hover , .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:visited , .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:active { border:0!important; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:active , .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754 .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .ucf0b955b0d699f28132b3ba3e5276754:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Walking Henry David Thoreau EssayMost people look back on their first relationship with nostalgic, but I look back on mine with regret. I can’t stand to look back on that time in my life because I played with a young boy’s heart and tore it apart. I must tell you though he is still alive today and he is doing great, and he even has a girlfriend. I can’t express to you how happy I am that his heart has been pieced back together and I say this because he felt obligated to tell me during the summer. I just hope nothing happens to them and he is left with a broken heart again because I’m not ready for that message.