It's been over a year since I broke up with my first boyfriend. We dated for two years, and those two years were plagued by me constantly wanting to end the relationship but feeling like I'd never find someone who would love me and treat me so well again. Boy, did I try to summon feelings of love and desire; they just weren't there. I learned a lot from that relationship. I learned you can't help how you feel. I learned to trust my instincts. And although I'm glad we dated, there's one thing I regret very much.

It was the beginning of my senior year in college. We had taken a break over the summer; that was a symptom of my desire to be free while being too scared to give him up completely. Things between us resumed just like they always did after one of our "breaks."

He had just received his Master's in electrical engineering and wanted to celebrate at a restaurant with friends. It was a Thursday night and I was tired from class and my internship. I groaned when he invited me. I said I didn't want to go. I don't remember what he said, but I wound up not going. All his friends were at the restaurant. His mother had sent him a card with some cash. And me, his girlfriend, who should have been there to support him and cheer him on for his accomplishment, decided to stay home and catch up on sleep. It was pure, undiluted selfishness. No one ever mentioned anything about that night to me, but I know they were all thinking that I was a cold and calloused person for missing out. I wasn't there and I should have been; I chose myself over him and I didn't even care to recognize how important that night was to him. That poor, sweet boy never gave me grief over it; he never said how much it hurt him. But it must have. And still to this day, I wish I could do it all again. I should have sat next to him that night. I should have told him I was proud of him. I should have chatted with his friends and forced down a beer, even though at that point I wasn't much of a beer drinker. But I didn't. When I think back on our relationship, I remember the Saturdays we used to spend together, running in the park, napping and cooking dinner. I remember the two trips we took to Amsterdam. And I remember that Thursday evening. One day I'll tell him how truly sorry I am.