Welcome ladies and gents, to what's sure to be an intersting ride, if nothing else. My name is Keryn and I have a problem. I'm a 20 year old recovering hopelss romantic. Yes, I suffered from a long term HappilyEverAfter addiction, and let me tell you, rehab's a bitch.

My OnceUponATime problem all started with the movie Aladdin. At the time, it was just my all-time favorite movie, which I made my parents take me to see 4 different times while it was out in theaters. But ultimately, I hold Walt Disney Pictures responsible for my unrealisitc expectations about love. My childhood was sprinkled with Belle, Ariel, Nala, and of course Princess Jasmine. They all got Prince Charming in the end, so I was confident that I would too.

As I hit my early teen years, I traded in my old pal Walt for soft rock radio, another fuel to the flame. I listened endlessly to the radio with blank casette tapes in my stereo, just waiting for love songs to record. At every school dance, I would anxiously await the inevitable slow song, the moment where the lights would dim and I would get the opportunity to sway awkwardly back and forth with that dorky kid who sat behind me in math class, all the while staring across the crowded gym at whichever out-of-reach boy I had set my sights on that particular week, and wishing that it were his sweaty palms on my waist. In the eighth grade, I scored my first "real" boyfriend. We dated for five months. He made me mix CDs and wrote love poems and we held hands and went to movies and sometimes, we even made out. What can I say? I like to live dangerously.

When I started my freshman year of high school, I ditched sappy lovesick middle school sweetheart, in favor of "sk8er bois", who were much more interested in cutting class to go wreak havoc, than falling deeply and madly in love with a straight-A student like myself. To remedy this, I started ditching class, smoking cigarettes in the girl's room,  and wearing waaaaaaaay too much eyeliner. I attracted my fair share of bad boys, but eventually ended up dating nerds, who made it their personal mission to cure me of my wayward tendencies. As a compromise, I quit smoking and went to class more often, but the goth makeup and clothes stuck with me.

After a series of failed relationships, I started stuggling with depression. I never got diagnosed because, at the time, I was sure that I was just destined for lonliness and nothing could stop that. But, in retrospect, I'm sure my unbalance could have been fixed with modern medicine. I began taking drugs and binge drinking and even cutting myself. I was your typical, run-of-the-mill misunderstood teenager. I thought about suicide, but never had the balls to do it. In the midst of all of this, I began a very emotionally taxing relationship with a boy who played hockey and mind games like a pro. I stayed with him for about three months, because I didn't believe my friends when they said I deserved better.

Then, one day, I met him. I mean The One. It was my junior year, and he was only a freshman, but when he told me that I could do better than my emotionally abusive varsity boyfriend, I believed him. So I broke up with my relationship-challenged frog, and started dating my very own Price Charming. Over the course of the next three years, we fell crazy in love, storybook-style. He became a part of my family, a part of my life, and a part of me. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. He started to get on my nerves. Little things, such as the way he would kiss me when I was mad at him, started to make me crazy. I'd pick little fights for no reason and he'd beg for my forgiveness. Eventually, I cheated on him and then broke up with him when my guilty conscience got the better of me. He was heartbroken and demanded to know why. I told him what I had done and he forgave me and begged for me back. Finally, I realized that I would never find anyone else that would love me so unconditionally. We got back together and vowed to make it work. Four months after our heartwarming reconnection, he dumped me, out of the blue for a skanky junior with the IQ of a retarded orange peel. He told me that I had broken his heart when I broke up with him and he just couldn't get over it. So much for unconditional, I suppose.

Needless to say, I was crushed. I began drinking again, but not just a shot or two with my friends. I'd just drink and cry myself to sleep every night. I smoked and popped and snorted an assorted variety of drugs. I began to cut my wrists again whenever he would cross my mind. I was terrified to be alone. Of course, most people didn't know this. Sure, I cried to my friends and we devised ways to break them up, but no one saw how deep it went or how low I had sunk. In fact, recently, two of my best friends have made mention of how well I had handled the situation. Ironic? Just a bit.

Right before the breakup, I had reconnected with an old friend of mine. He had been a close friend of one of my short-lived "bad boy" boyfriends from years ago, and for whatever reason we had stayed in touch, via instant messaging. He had been going through a rough time. He was away at school and his girlfriend had dumped him for his roommate. Night after night, I listened to him pour his heart out while the nasty situation played out. So when I got dumped, he did the same for me. On several oocasions, he stayed up until dawn on the phone with me, even though he had class that morning. He offered loads of advice, trash-talked the crater-faced slutwhore who stole my boyfriend, critcized my ex for leaving me, and even invited me to his dorm for a weekend so I could get away from it all. I didn't go, but we made plans to see each other as soon as he came home for the summer.

The first time we hung out, we went to the movies and afterwards, he kissed me. Of course, I had entertained thoughts of that happening prior to seeing him (I had a major crush on him in high school) and was pleasantly surprised when it did. However, the next day, he told me that he had been confused, but he only saw me as a friend. We hung out that night and he kissed me again. That was the beginning of my crazy summer. We hung out a few times a week, and went to the movies, and held hands, and eventually started sleeping together, but he was always quick to deny that there was anything more than just "friends". Then came an unexpected turn of events. Remember my ex? You know, the one who shattered my fragile heart into tiny fragments? Yeah, him. He called me and wanted to see me. And so plot thickens...

The night that we hung out; it was like old times. He came over my house and we laughed and talked and watched dumb viral videos on YouTube. He apologized for hurting me, and told me that he thinks about me all the time.. Before he left, he kissed me. So began a torrid summer affair. Now at this point in time, I was in a very emotionally fragile state and it certainly did not help that I was very much involved with, not one, but two boys. The ex took me out on nice dates and called me every night to say good-night and told me that he was still in love with me but was not willing to break up with Skanky McSkankFace yet. My "justfriends" boy would text me at 11 for a booty call one night, and then kiss me on the forehead and hold my hand the next. Can we say MIXED SIGNALS? So finally I gave each boy an ultimatum of sorts. I told my ex that he either had to break up with his girlfriend, or we had to stop having sex behind her back and I told my Friendwithbenefits that I really liked him and that we either had to take it to the next level or we had to stop having sex, figuring one of them would come around and then I could finally be happy. Thing is, they both chose the latter option. I lost it. I cut off contact with both of them and just gave up.

The ex came crawling back first, begging to just be friends because he said he couldn't stand to live without me. He said that he wasn't ready to break WhatsHerFace's heart and go back to me but he needed me in his life. He said he still loved me and that eventually he thought we could end up together, but now was not the right time and he hoped that I could live with that. I agreed that now was probably not the best time for us to rekindle our relationship. I mean, clearly there was a reason that it didn't work to begin with. So I accepted his offer of being friends, but I cautioned him that he needed to make a decision soon.

After less than a week of the cold shoulder, my commitment-phobic "friend" was growing concerned. He would text me with "Hey, I called you last night. Just wanted to talk." or "Haven't heard from you in a few days. Everything ok?". I would respond with "Yeah, everything's fine. Been kinda busy, I guess." He'd ask me to hang out; I'd cordially decline, not giving him a reason. I had always thrown myself at boys, so playing it cool was more difficult than I had imagined, but I was just not willing to give in.

Finally, his persistence got irritating and I admitted that I had been hurt when he brushed off my heartfelt profession but I understood and now I was trying to move on. He apologized and asked me out to dinner that week. I reluctantly agreed, having secretly decided that this would be the last time I would see him until I was over him.

We went to relatively nice restaurant and made small talk. Next on the agenda was a movie. We arrived early and just sat in the car and talked. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and said "I need to ask you something. I think that we should go out. Do you?" And just like that, I involved myself in another love story. This time, however, I went into it with the jaded knowledge of what boys are capable of and that even Prince Charming can screw you over.

Jason and I have been together for just about a month and a half, and while that may not seem like a long time to many, I feel like it's been much longer, probably because we spent our entire summer trying not to fall for each other. He admitted that he had liked me during the summer, but was afraid to start a relationship because A) he thought he would be going away to school in the fall and B) he had been hurt so badly by his ex. He's spending the semester at the community college down the street from my house and is going to be a commuting student at a local university in the spring. So I guess I'm stuck with him now 

So anyway, there's my story thus far. The rest of my blog will be a continuation; hopefully a good one. Who knows? Maybe there is hope for me after all.