Yesterday, two people I love got married. She was a girl I met just after I finished high school, and he was someone I met during my first year of university. I met each of them in different places for different reasons, so it was odd to hear that they had connected many years later. But I do find much joy in seeing circles overlap—when your friends connect with other friends and make something new out of their relationships.
The girl I met just after high school was bubbly and sweet. She had an appreciation for nature and seemed like she had an innocent view on love. She loved God and radiated a joy that was so very contagious. Admittedly, past all the bubbliness and happiness, I can’t really say I knew her very well. But I was excited to go to university with my new friend.
Our first year was mainly spent in the design building “studying” amongst the laughter with new friends. I remember my first year rather fondly, but not without some reservations about relationships. We spent an ample amount of time with two other guys, making things very complicated—as boy-girl relationships do sometimes—until our circle slowly expanded after we took a little trip to Queensland. I’m not even sure if I remember it all correctly. After all, it seems as if our friendship existed lifetimes ago.
Despite the messiness, I cherished that first year with you. But I wish you would have opened up more so we could have been better friends.
The boy I met during my time at university was a quiet observer. He was a few years older than me and we had met at a church event in preparation for a summer mission trip. He was special. Someone very different from me, but fighting through unfamiliar struggles faithfully. And he was the first person to hear my testimony.
We developed a funny relationship on our shared love of creative things. I enjoyed our conversations about films, personal projects, and music (Polyphia especially). Our lives were remarkably different, but it only led to appreciating our friendship all the more. And somewhere along the way, lines became blurry enough in a “will they, won’t they” fashion. Thanks to your initiative, we handled everything maturely. But there was also a sadness in knowing things had to be different because of the way things were between us.
We fought our own battles, but still managed to build a special friendship for a little while. But I wish we had known each other less so we could still be friends.
I loved both of them for different reasons. She is the reason for the many friendships I’d made during university—with her enthusiasm, she encouraged me to join a club I had no intention of joining. Despite not coming close to ever really knowing her, I loved her. And he was the person who was there when I really needed someone during a funny time in my life. We shared a rare kind of mutual understanding, and I loved him.
So upon discovering on social media these two people that I love had gotten married. I was distraught. How else can I describe that kind of heartbreak? There’s no way to explain the deeply rooted sorrow of missing out on a significant event of people you love and cherish… And not even being invited. I didn’t get to experience the joy of their special day and union, and that makes me really sad. But I guess that means the time we shared is truly over.
I won’t pretend that weddings don’t evoke a kind of bitterness in me because of my own circumstances and wasted years of wondering whether I ever meant anything to them. However, separate from that, I wished I could have experienced the full joy of seeing two people I’ve known and loved be wed. Because it’s almost too tempting to think I had done something wrong, or there were other things I could have done better.
Did I ever mean anything to you, my first university friend?
Because you meant a lot to me.
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