# 04 Something magic could happen
Love is what it’s all about Part 1.
There is something about connecting with another human. As I am a man — a straight one — what I talk about, what I have in mind is connecting with a woman.
There really is something about it — connecting with a woman. I mean — when the connection turns out to be successful. When you start to think that this is it, this is real — you’re in love.
I believe it doesn’t happen all the time. In dating I don’t even know if it happens most of the time. Probably those connections are successful only in a few cases — in the sense that the two persons stay happy together for a long time. I guess that long lasting sweet music occurs perhaps only in 10 to 20 % of the cases when a man meets a woman and the relationship between her and him and lasts for a long period.
How can we know that a connection is successful? What are the criteria that tell us that this is it, this is what we were looking for?
It’s not alone the number of years together that counts. It's not only the intensity of the relationship the first months, or the intensity the first years. I would say success in the relationship is partly related both to years and intensity between the two.
I have not been dating very many times. In my lifetime I have been in two long term relationships. Each of them lasted for many years — more than 15 / more than 30 years.
When I was young, before I ended up in relationships that lasted for years, of course I were with a few girls. Girls who were at my age then, at the end of the teens, and other ones when we were in our twenties.
The first girl I held hands with was one of them. That innocent age of teenagers! I stood at her side behind the entry to the school’s gym hall. I could feel she was close, although our bodies did not touch. She lent towards me, and I felt her breasts against me. The moment touched me, intoxicated me.
Another one was the first girl I kissed. That was really something! I was a thin, shy boy. I got my first kiss, after having waited for years to find myself close enough with a girl — finally I got hold of one!
Then there was the girl who became my first girlfriend. She was living in a room in a private home in the town. She looked after the two small children of the family. I came to visit her in the evenings when she had finished her work.
I was happy together with her for a while. I think our love affair lasted between one and a half and two and a half years. She introduced me to secrets I had not known of before. I loved her.
Then she vanished literally. When we were supposed to meet — or at least I expected to meet her — she did not show up. I tried to call her on the telephone. It was impossible to reach her. I wrote letters and put them in the family’s letter box. She did not respond. When I saw her on the street, she went away from me, in a hurry.
She was my first heartache, my first loss in love.
I could not believe it! She had turned me down. I was dying!
I went for a while and felt incredibly betrayed. Life was over! Life was not worth living any longer! I can still remember where I was when I had those thoughts, when I struggled against the effects of betrayal and deadly deception.
It was a late Sunday morning. I had tried once more to get in contact with her. I went up and knocked on her door. I knew she was not working, because the parents of the children she looked after took care of them every Sunday. Sunday was her day off.
First she did not open. I knocked harder, and she opened and told me not to make all that noise.
“It’s over!” she hissed. Then she closed the door and locked it.
The cut was sharp and deep. No ambiguity, no doubt, no space for the smallest hope. It’s over!
I was struck dead. I was completely numb.
It was in early spring. I went hastily through the streets in the town center and ran upwards, towards the hill. I ran as fast as I could, I was completely alienated and had only one wish: To get away from it all, get away from myself and the pain inside of me.
The blades on the huge birch in the hillside had just come out.
I felt so incredibly sorry. This pain, this suffering — I had no word for it. I could produce no tears. I was struck to the ground, and I did not want to get myself up again.
Of course I got myself up again. Some months later I met another girl, and it was another love affair. I was with her through the summer.
The fall came, and I left the town. I went to the city as planned to go to the university.
Thank you for reading!
This is a chapter in a novel I am publishing here on Medium, work title Love is what it’s all about.
Writing a novel (online or in a traditional way) is a rather lonely task. I would very much appreciate your response. Comments are welcome!
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