The One That Got Away

Even after a woman is married (or otherwise informally attached), it is perfectly normal for that woman to still wonder about the men of romances past.  Certain questions might occasionally cross that woman's mind:  What might have happened if I had ended up with Mr. High-School Heartthrob?  Where is Mr. College Crush today?  Or, was my true 'Mr. Right' truly Mr. Office One & Only?  Considering the current lives of these past paramours does not mean that we are stuck in the past or that we don't love the one we're with.  It does not make us cheaters; it makes us human.  For most of us, there is always that special man from our past who we label as The One That Got Away.

The difference between other women and me, the divorcée?  I can actually do something about it.

His name was Mr. Cadet.  As I was traveling far north to that frozen tundra I called college, my family was leaving my high school life behind and moving to a new state; once again I was able to call a city in the South "home."  All throughout college, each last day of April, I left my snow boots, scarf, and gloves behind and went home to my small-town sunshine.  Because it was a new place for me, I had to meet new summer friends through the wonderful world of waitressing.  This is how Mr. Cadet entered my life; he had just finished with a five-year commitment in the U.S. Army and was working as a waiter while attending a local college.

I am not quite even sure how it happened.  One day, we are working alongside each other as coworkers; the next, we are AOL instant-messaging each other at home.  One minute, he's introducing himself during our shift; the next, he's going out of his way to pass me to say hi and smile.  The two of us always volunteered to stay as the last waitstaff on the floor, challenging each other to see who could bring in the most cash in tips (and convincing the hostess to seat members of the opposite sex at tables in our respective sections to gain the advantage).  Then, we would walk out of the restaurant together, usually chatting and flirting next to our cars until long after the parking lot was empty.

For the most part, our relationship was completely platonic—a few times, it progressed to something more.  But of course, the summer would pass, I would go back to school, and the relationship would be forced to end.  However, as soon as winter was over and April appeared again, Mr. Cadet and I would once more be drawn to each other, unable to fight the chemistry between us.  But, since we knew how much it would hurt when the summer was over, we didn't talk about the future; we would never express how we felt.  Summer romances seemed to be our fate, at least for the time.

Then, as my senior year of college was looming ahead, my family told me that they would again be moving—which meant, when I traveled back north that September, I would be leaving my small town paradise and Mr. Cadet behind for good.

So I told Mr. Cadet that I was leaving.  I told him that I wouldn't be back that next summer.  I told him that I was applying to grad school, and I could pick any place in the nation to attend, any place I had a reason to go.  I waited for him to give me a reason; I waited for him to ask me to stay.  He never did.  So I left, and I didn't look back.

I do not blame him for letting me go.  He was 24, and I was only 21 when I saw Mr. Cadet for the last time.  So young, having to make big decisions—we cannot be expected to make the right one every time.  And who knows?  Maybe it was the right decision.  Maybe it was only a summer romance, and we were supposed to move on to new futures.  We might have never worked out.  However, even after all these years, when I think about the characters of my past, he has always been "the one that got away" in my love story.

A few months prior to my ex-husband dropping the D-word on me, Mr. Cadet sent me a friend request on Facebook, after almost 10 years of no contact.  Turns out, he just moved to a city only a six-hour's drive away from my current location.  We started chatting one day recently, and I finally got up the courage to ask him:

"Why did you let me go?  Why didn't you ask me to stay?  I was crazy about you—I would have stayed there with you."

He surprised me completely with his reply:

"I didn't ask because I didn't know you wanted me to.  Why didn't you ask me to go with you?  I was crazy about you too—I would have followed you wherever you went."

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.  I know that I was meant be married, I was meant to get divorced, and I was meant to be hurt beyond belief for a reason.  So I have to wonder — was "the one that got away" meant only to be a part of my past?  Or is there a reason he has suddenly reappeared in my future?  Maybe, I'm not yet supposed to know.

But the plus side to getting divorced?  If I want to, I actually have the chance to find out.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée