Few things in life are certain. We’re born. We die. And somewhere in between the two, we all get our hearts broken at least once. There’s no escaping it. It’s as inevitable as the rising and the setting of the sun. This is the risk we take for that giddy, glorious feeling of being in love.
I’ve certainly experienced my share of heartbreak, beginning in the 5th grade when Benny Buffamante threw me over for Mary Rose Kelly. Who could blame him, really? With her big blue eyes and long, golden curls, she was adorable. Plus, she had three first names! How could I compete with that!?!?
I survived being spurned by Benny and lived on to love again. And of course, my heart got stomped on many more times in the process. I’d like to think that it made me stronger and more resilient. I’d like to think that, but the truth is that each time I lost in love, it hurt just as much as the time before. Thank heavens I met my Mr. Right before my tender heart was completely pummeled into a quivering, bleeding mass of mush!
This article appears in Dec 2-8, 2000.