What a wonderfully inspiring post. :) I love you guys.
My most challenging experience took place about two and a half years ago, but to fully understand it, I must give a little bit of context.
When I was fifteen, I became friends with a guy. I was in a really unhealthy and emotionally abusive relationship at the time, and this friend helped me realize this and get out of it. Eventually we realized we had fallen in love with each other and started dating. It didn't work out because we were young and didn't communicate well. He wasn't ready for the kind of commitment I was looking for, having just gotten out of a serious relationship. Instead of talking through it with me, he cheated on me. I found out from a mutual friend, and broke it off. I hated him for a while and he fell in with a different crowd. Dated a girl who hated me for no reason and made my life hell just for existing. They broke up. We started talking again, and we became friends.
We stayed close for the next six years. We would talk constantly. Ask each other intimate or philosophical questions. I've never connected with someone so deeply. He took me to NYC for my 21st and surprised me with a ferry ride because he knew I loved boats and loved the ocean. He took me to the top of the Empire State Building and told me it was his favorite place in the world. At this time, we hadn't told each other (or ourselves really) that we were in love with each other. We were in committed relationships with other people.
Later that year is when it hit me hard and I realized I couldn't pretend anymore, so I broke it off with my boyfriend and against my better judgment I told him how I felt. He said he had felt the same way for a long time. We hung out a lot and he acted way more intimate toward me, putting his arm around me, making up excuses to his boyfriend for why he wasn't hanging out with him. Deleting my calls from his history so his boyfriend wouldn't see how much we talked, because he had been screening most of his calls. He talked about ending his relationship and seemed certain it'd happen soon. But it hadn't happened yet. At this point I knew what he was doing wasn't right, but I was so conflicted because I felt so strongly about him and he finally admitted he felt it too. But I'd push him away and ask what his boyfriend would say about the way he acted toward me, although I wanted it more than anything. That was hard.
At this point I was scared and confused. Everything was happening so quickly and I was afraid of how vulnerable I felt. So I stepped back. I told him that, while I had feelings for him, I didn't want a relationship right now. Didn't think we were ready for one. Part of me agreed with what I was saying, but I think that part was just fear. He ended up confessing to his boyfriend about our mutual feelings for each other. They had a big fight and a long talk and decided to work things out. I felt hurt even though I had no right to. I told him I didn't think we were that compatible after all and we wouldn't work out together. I was so scared of him hurting me, I decided to just do it myself. I didn't let him choose who he wanted to be with because I was afraid he wouldn't choose me. I thought never knowing would be better than rejection.
I stopped talking to him completely a few months later. I realized I wouldn't be able to move on if I still had him in my life. I'd always look at him and think, someday. So I wrote him a nasty letter about how horrible he's been as a friend and how he used me as a crutch in his own relationship. I said a bunch of things I knew would hurt him, knew he wouldn't forgive. Because I didn't trust myself to keep that door closed. Our mutual friend tells me he still acts like he hates me, but he's probably just hurt. Either way, he still wants nothing to do with me. And I fear it was all for nothing, because I still think of him all the time.
I've been dating someone for a while now. He's wonderful to me and we've built a good life together. I care about him a lot. But I still hold that friend close to my heart after all these years. And I feel more than a little conflicted about it. People say you can love more than one person and you can love people in entirely different ways. But I feel guilty all the same.
A bit of advice I gave someone recently was that love doesn't really die after a relationship ends. It sits with you and you learn to live with it. Then you learn to be okay with it. Eventually, you learn to love despite it. I'm still working on the last one, but I sure hope it's true.