Have you ever been so in love with a person, it made you crazy?

I mean so in love you actually ached with the thought of being around that special person. That one person, that one man that made life worth sticking around for. So in frickin' love that just thinking about him made your day better? Even after you've been struck by a bus and audited by the IRS?

I was crazy in love once. It was terrible. The drama was so thick it was up to my eyebrows. I don't know how people can live in that sort of state all the time! It's like being in a frickin' soap opera.

His name was Pete. He was tall, handsome, lean, smart, fun. He loved to dance. His lips were soft. He knew just how to hold me, just how to make me squeal. He was everything that I looked for in a guy. He was even a little rugged. He had great hands and he was ten years older than me. Oooh! Just thinking about him is making my heart race even now, after four years. God, I loved that man. In some ways, I still do.

I had dated guys before. Not a lot of guys, but not few either. No one, NO ONE made me feel like Pete did. He was my first ever deeply passionate love. The first guy I ever actually smiled about when I thought of spending the rest of my life with him. I was crazy up the wahzoo.

It was a destructive relationship. I know now that he was actually interested in someone else while he was fooling around with me and that I was his runner-up, his back-up plan, his second choice. Does it matter though? A little, but not really. If he had come back to me after treating me like scum and dirt and a three-month-old Christmas fruit cake that he finally had the heart to throw away, if he had come back to me after that...I would've welcomed him. It's sad to admit, I know, but I would've. I would've opened my arms and legs and anything else he wanted, just so I could be his favorite.

That's the problem with that though. I was too forgiving. That's why I could never be his favorite. That's why he was able to play me like a yo-yo with the ball-bearings inside. The ones that always come back, no matter how hard you throw them down. I was a glutton for punishment. I wanted it, just so I could hear him say my name. I'm melting.

How crazy was I, you ask? Well, if I wanted to tell you all of it, we'd be here for three weeks. You'd better make yourself comfortable.