2 Boys and a Girl

by Amelia Kanan

I thought I fell in love with two men at the same time. Well, back then, they were boys. They both had the same name but couldn’t have been more different from each other. One was a jerk who always smiled and one was sweet but never smiled. One had stupid big, blue eyes, the other had small but cozy brown ones. One liked baseball the other basketball. One was tall the other was…well, taller than me. One had an inflated ego and the other needed to grow a pair.

They both made me laugh, even though neither one was very funny. More importantly, neither one ever pretended to be perfect nor even tried. That’s why I fell in love. And that’s how I felt worthy of being loved by both of them.

Not to mention, I was an insecure 18 year-old girl who craved constant attention from boys and they each fed different parts of my ego. I could be sweet and fun with the jerk and with the sweet one, I could be deep and dark. I was so easy then. They would disagree. Only because back then, I said ‘no’ a lot. They both called me a tease.

I enjoyed telling them both how in love I was with the other one – who happened to have the same name. I also enjoyed venting to one while already forgiving the other. It may come as a shock but they didn’t like each other.

if I really wanted to lie, I’d tell you that I still love them and if I wanted to be really honest, I’d tell you this saga still continues. But, thank god, I don’t feel like telling stories nor bearing my soul so I won’t say either.

Today, they both should hate me. Because I kind of do.

The sweet one kind of does. Well, he doesn’t hate me but, he doesn’t ask me to move in with him anymore. That’s ok though because he wants cats and he doesn’t want kids.

The jerk thinks we’re perfect for each other because he thinks we’re the same. We’ve hurt each other so much it’s as if we’re numb to it. He’s allergic to cats and definitely wants kids. Stupid me thinks “Maybe we are meant to be together…”

When I talk to both of them, I can hear my 18 year old voice. I can hear insecurities I haven’t heard in a decade. I hate that.

Yet, I keep holding on.

Why?

Why not?

For over 10 years they both have not only listened to me cry, ramble and even lie about stupid shit but they both have provided advice and condolences. They are two men who know every single ugly part of me. Every single annoying part. Every shameful flaw. And yet, they both are still here and still able to listen, sleep next to me and hold my hand. That – to me – is insane.

As sweet as this can seem it’s not healthy.

Spring is coming and I’m ready to clean.

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