One of the best first dates I’ve ever been on was to a sushi restaurant. I had never tried sushi before, and it ended up becoming one of my favorite foods. I ended up dating that boy for three years. And in those three years, our lives became increasingly intertwined. We were already in the same honors classes, we both played soccer, we both wrote for the school newspaper. We fit into each other’s lives so perfectly.

For three years, we got along perfectly. And then we broke up. It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Some people eat after I break up, I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I was nauseous all the time. I lost almost thirty pounds. And sushi had never looked more repulsive.

For months after that, every time I saw sushi I thought of him. He was there every green car that drove by, every time I passed a soccer field of boys practicing. I had never been even the slightest bit phased by a break up before, so I had no idea why I was so upset. I felt so weak, so pathetic, for letting myself be so upset over a boy.

Time passed, and I gradually began getting better. It took little steps. I finally stopped crying. I didn’t have to see him anymore once school ended, and then I was able to stop thinking about him almost altogether. I started dating some other people casually, and soon I rarely thought of him. I could even eat order a California roll without a single painful memory. (Which instantly enhanced my life; I’d really missed those little guys.) Read More »