I’d like to write a love story- but that requires a solid understanding of what love is.

Does anyone know what love is? Does anyone need to know what love is? My answer would be yes and no. Yes because a single definition can be the glue in a relationship. No because not one case is the same. It’s like trying to define the meaning of life; there have been many plausible attempts, but life has gone on without it.
In my case, love is...well, love. A melting pot of emotions and some enticing force to another person. Maybe it’s better to not know what it is. It won’t hurt as much when it’s gone. That being said, a universal understanding is that love comes and goes. Everyone gets a second chance.

I’d like to share my experience with the infamous love. High school love is the weakest kind. I am sitting in my warm, fluffy bed listening to my best friend scheming a plan of revenge against a boy who screwed her over one too many times. We both knew he was a flakey guy. His first girlfriend ended up becoming bisexual after they broke up. If that’s not a red flag I don’t know what is. He began to have feelings for my friend’s very close friend. Knowing this friend was leaving for a significant amount of time, he tried to let her go. He tried.

He began to get closer to this friend of mine. Small conversations led to late night Facetimes. Talking in the halls led to hanging out with him and his sister at her house. Every new interaction adding to the increasingly unstable tower of emotions. I bet you know how this story ends. The boy never lost his feelings for the first girl and left the other on the edge of a mental cliff- safety vs a fall. Should she choose the fall; the hope that if she waits he’ll someday devoat his full attention to her? That of course means she was always a second choice. Or should she chose the ground that brings her safety; an escape from the games he played with her? To us the answer is obvious. The hardest part is the decision. Either way she’ll be getting hurt, but the degrees of pain are significantly different.

Why risk it all? It’s only high school. There’s no point in dwelling on something that isn’t making you happy right now because right now is all that matters. If someone expected a serious, committed relationship, I’d tell them they’re crazy. Yes, there are exceptions, but relying on them to get through the tough times is not going to cut it. If it’s not making you happy right now, stop. Life’s too short.

Outside of the school atmosphere, relationships change. Allow me to take a minute to tell my love story. I’ll admit, it’s not yet finished, but I will attempt to predict the ending.

The story begins in our old home, the James Mulvey Inn. My mother has a friend named Brian who jumps back and forth between England and Minnesota. He introduced us to his friend, Stuart. These men have been longtime best friends. It just so happens that Stuart’s family had been itching to visit the United States. Conveniently, we had a place for them to stay. I was seven when they first came to visit. Instantly we hit it off with them. My mother became good friends with Stuart’s wife, Sharon, and I with their children, Sophie and Oliver. Sophie was about a year younger than I, Ollie about two older. I have very little memories left from their first visit. A vivid one was Stuart teaching me karate in the side yard. Anyway, my mom and I grew very close to this family. A type of premature love.

We kept in close contact, reassuring them we’d come to visit them in Manchester soon. Two years later, the time came to buy plane tickets and fly over to see them. We stayed in their quaint home for about a week and a half. Our love for them growing stronger with each day. I did not want to leave. I had made two of the best friends I’ll ever have.

Flash forward to 14 year-old me on Halloween night, Michelle’s annual party. I wait in line for the fortune teller. Upon entering, she asks me what I’d like to know about. I ask if she can tell me about future relationships. Strangely enough she says, “I see you meeting someone foreign and having a really strong relationship with them.” Instantly I thought about Ollie. I had never thought of him in that way. Mostly because I was still in the cootie stage when I last saw him.

This prophecy sparked my interest so much that I began to wonder if they’d ever come back to visit. Almost timely, the Ollie's family sent us a message the next April that they were looking at buying plane tickets to come back to Minnesota. I started fantasizing that the fortune teller’s revelation may, in fact, come true.

It’s now August 23rd, a day before they were coming to stay with us. My mother and I scrambled around the house making sure all the preparations had been completed. Finally it was time to pick them up. The airport was busy that day, forcing me to go inside while my mom drove in circles in the pickup lane waiting for them. At this point I was very nervous to see them. When I approached them, they didn’t recognize me. Sophie turned to Oliver and gave him a smirk followed by him shaking his head and saying, “No.” My heart sank a little. This would make the trip a little easier knowing I wouldn’t have to worry about catching feelings like the fortune teller predicted.
Alas, as the week progressed, things changed. I started noticing certain signals coming from Ollie. He began to walk closer and talk more to me. Ever so slightly more each day. Whether he’d have his arm on my shoulder or poking me, he’d always have to be touching me. One day he even told me I looked nice in my blue floral dress. He was so different from any guy I’ve ever known. I saw myself in him. I was quickly falling into a love I’d never felt prior.

The last night came too soon. It consisted of dinner on the rooftop of an Irish pub, walking through downtown Minneapolis, and going to a Twin’s game. This was by far one of the best nights of my life. Ollie and I were so, so happy. The goodbye hug was my favorite part.

That may have been the end of the trip, but not the end of us. If we’ve been close this long, it’s not loosening any time soon. This is just the beginning. I can’t wait for next summer when I will be able to spend a bigger chunk of time over there. This may be the only thing getting me through this school year.

I’ve felt love. Who cares what it means. I am in love; a different kind than most people. If two people love each other, it works. There will be happiness. If you’re not happy, it’s not love.