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A story of unrequited love. The story of unrequited love from my life

1. Children's room.
On September 1st of first grade, for the first time, I entered the classroom in fear and was pushed by a boy a head taller than me. And throughout first and second grade I was in love with him. He looked like a little bear, was taller than everyone and sat on the last desk. And I was the smallest and sat on the first one, sometimes looking back and receiving comments. Love seemed to overtake me forever and one day in the second grade, I ran up to him and said “I LOVE YOU!” and immediately ran away. And he caught up with me and said “WHAT A STUPID!” and hit him on the head. It must have hurt. I don’t remember how I made the confession, but this classmate told me a few years after graduating from school. We laughed for a long time, and he said that for a long time he was very ashamed of the fact that he hit me then, because he was a boy, and I was a girl, and also so small, shorter than everyone else until the very end of school.
He is now a handsome big man with long wavy hair and a charming wife and son whom he adores.

2. From imagined love to real love. Or the first tears.
I remember in fifth grade we all felt like we had grown up very, very much. The third graders seemed incredibly small with funny subjects, and we already had algebra. And one day, in a conversation with the girls, we decided that we definitely had to fall in love. And they chose who to be. I remember that I chose a boy who was the best student, was well brought up, and was also the most unusual because he was red-haired (and I apparently have had a passion for red-haired people since childhood). And then, without even noticing, I actually fell in love. And this was visible to everyone, and the boy, according to the classics of the genre, fell in love with my friend. I remember one day he gave me a pen and an eraser, because... lost mine. Do I need to explain that in all the math tests I solved his version, in case I need it? Nothing was ever erased with this eraser, it was sacred, and the pen was always in the pencil case, but was never used. But one day my mother took the hand - without asking. And then I lost it. I cursed and cursed so much, but she couldn’t understand why I was so upset. Then she suddenly became serious and asked - have you fallen in love or something? I screamed that I didn’t fall in love, but that I truly loved him! And we sat next to each other and cried, and she told me that falling in love is great, and crying is normal, that she, too, was in love with the boy and loved him until the end of school, and he married her friend later. And only then she met my dad.
And the red-haired boy became a serious red-haired man in serious services, and to this day I consider him one of the most interesting and kind men I have ever met. They say he lives with our classmate and I think he will be a very good husband. And redheads still evoke very positive associations in me.

3. Binary code is the shortest road to a schoolgirl's heart.
I don’t remember what grade it was, I think ninth and I took an exam in computer science. And then I came to the dacha and a large group of us lit a big fire, sat in a circle, strummed the guitar, I sang something, constantly smoked and drank Baltika Parnas. And then HE came. guy from next street. He was older than all of us, he never hung out with us, but he saw the fire and decided to stop by. He had quizzical eyes, wavy hair, an open smile and great humor. Imperceptibly, ten minutes later, for some reason we were discussing binary code, conversions to other calculus systems, I said that the future belongs to flash programming, and he knew C++ and condescendingly told me that he was the basis. Then I seemed to understand this and it was incredibly interesting to me, and most importantly, he, eight years older than me, looked at me with his ironic eyes and also excitedly continued to discuss some programs and codes. We sat at different ends of the fire exchanging remarks across the fire, but soon everyone got tired of hearing about computer science and he was moved to me. But then I suddenly became speechless and the dialogue somehow died down. But my heart beat in my ears, drowning out all sounds, and continued to beat like that for another three days. I lost sleep, my appetite, it always seemed to me that he was looking out of the window at my site and I tried to look older and more serious, and also, as if by accident, to look into his window. In the evening I sat on the veranda and just looked at the window of his room on the third floor. A friend came, laughed at me and sang Alsou’s song “light in your window...”. On the third day, we unexpectedly met on the street, he greeted me cheerfully, and I almost fell into the ground, muttered something under my breath, pretended that I didn’t recognize him and rather ran ahead. It seemed to me that now he would definitely see how head over heels I was in love with him. But as soon as I left the dacha, I forgot about him. Love ate me and myself in three days.
I saw him only a few years later and it was somehow strange to come up and say hello. She simply nodded, like all her neighbors from the dacha, and that’s all. And he drives a big car and has grown a big belly. I don't know anything else about him.

4. The last one, crazy.
Opening of the motorcycle season, April, cold, half rain, half snow. We drink cognac while sitting on sports motorcycles. Our friends are hardened bikers, for whom neither wives, nor accidents, nor dead friends can stop their love for motorcycles. They say that motorcycle is a disease that can be treated with antibiotics. But no one has invented these yet. Their eyes glow like real devils, and they are devils themselves. There are a lot of girls on the lookout, but we are our own, they put us on motorcycles, they ride us around and entertain us. We are like sisters here for them, something inviolable, incomprehensible to them, from another dimension, not theirs. We don’t even have shoes without heels, we wear white fur coats and joke that it’s easier to cling to the footrest with heels. And then a person arrives whom everyone is waiting for and loving. Big, with an absolutely childish smile, crazy eyes, broad shoulders and huge hands. He hugs me, takes me off my friend’s motorcycle and asks if I’m afraid to go with him?
In order to hug him from behind, I didn’t have enough arms, I pressed myself against this huge back with all the strength I had. Firstly, because it was scary to break away and fly away. Sometimes I was able to see the number on the speedometer and I saw 220 km/h there, I saw air currents on the side of us, and the houses merged into one multi-colored line. Secondly, my life depended on this man, which I entrusted to him for the next half hour. Thirdly, at the second turn, almost leaning towards the asphalt at speed, my heart jumped off somewhere, and apparently got the wrong address and returned, not to me, but to him. Upon arrival, they told me that I was a very brave girl, the speed reached 240, and few people dare to ride with him. But upon arrival, I was ready to give myself and my life to him until the end of time. But alas.
Until the end of the night in his kitchen, I gave him tea and listened to stories about his unhappy love, about his girlfriend, who is so beautiful and so distant. I was his vest, his sister, his friend. She said all the right words, then put him to bed, kissed him on the forehead and went into the shower to sob. The next morning he took me to work on his motorcycle and I reveled in these last seconds of happiness.
I remember exactly that I suddenly forgot how to breathe. I turned grey, then turned green, then cried, alcohol and lack of sleep took their toll, and most importantly, the understanding that he would never, never, EVER be mine. The director called me to her place at lunch, and I sobbed into her laptop and said that I really, really couldn’t work today, because I fell in love so much that I felt sick. She stroked me on the head, said that I was a fool, called a taxi and sent me home. And then there were two days in a fog. He called me something and said more, and she answered him something, and then he left. And a day later it all went away again. I didn't die anymore, and he didn't call anymore. And then there was the funeral of a mutual friend who crashed into a bus and there was no more love.
Now he is still big and warm and still rides a motorcycle and still buries his friends, he married that girl and they still come together and go their separate ways, she begs him to stop riding a motorcycle, and he swears his love, but the motorcycle has become integral part of his body. And he still has the same childish smile. Only there is no more sparkle in the eyes. Gone somewhere. It's a pity.

Another sad woman's story from a thousand other stories. “It’s so strange... It’s as if you’re not living your own life. You ask the question into the void: why did this happen to me? This meeting at work - it would be better if it didn’t happen at all!

2003 We were looking for a pre-press specialist to join our design department. He came for an interview. They just stood there and looked at each other like fools. And time seemed to stand still... a moment of recognition, then a slight awkwardness...

And then there was the music that he revealed to me. He gave it as if it was the whole world. This is the music of our latest “minstrels”. Maybe someone heard it - the group Melnitsa, Tam, Yovin, Krys and Shmendra and of course Skadi, Oleg Medvedev.

He had been married for 1 year then, I didn’t find the courage to take him away from my wife, although I probably could have. For a long time I couldn’t understand why I was going to work on wings, why the November sky didn’t seem gloomy and joyless. As it dawned on the duck on the fifth day, HE was just at work. That's all.

8 hours of living with him. He sang to us occasionally, played the guitar... not often. His smile, humor, his smell, his eyes!!! It was still possible to live somehow. And even enjoy life.

And then it happened that I was fired, you know, this happens sometimes. Then only at that moment I understood - how to actually live further away from him?

But life turned out to be unbearable! He never gave me any reason to think that there could be something between us. Love cannot be chosen; it is impossible to force yourself to love or not to love. I can only say - if you recognize these eyes, the eyes of your only man in a crowd of thousands of eyes - fight for him!!!

Spit on conventions, spit on shyness and timidity!!!

It's 2011 now. Behind me is a second unsuccessful marriage.

Recently he wrote to me on ICQ: hello... hello... how are you and how are you? He has two children, the same wife... but I see in my heart that he, like me, is losing his life, losing something very important.

He sent me a song, which he apparently recorded on a microphone secretly from his wife. I listen to his voice through the speaker, it’s as if he’s in the same room with me, it’s as if he’s singing for me. This song is sad, a song about loneliness. Her last words: “The ocean is ahead, just spread your arms, into the uncontrollable fog, into the inescapable blue.”

We never admitted our feelings to each other, it probably even sounds stupid. I don’t know how to glue my life back together, my heart is doing somersaults inside. Almost 10 years have passed. I thought that I would meet someone else, forget about it and everything would even out.

Others met, loved me and suffered from unrequited love...

It's a pity that you can't erase your own memory like a hard drive. Become a “blank sheet of paper” and draw another person on this sheet and love him.

I clench my fingers, my nails dig into my palms... because I have to move on with my life. I have children myself, and I need to be strong.

You have to be strong!!!"

> >

Every person has experienced unrequited love at least once in their life. Over time, the unrequited feelings of youth are remembered with warm sadness, many questions are answered, making many people think: “Was it worth it to suffer like that?” This happens for the following reason - the feeling of falling in love interferes with an objective assessment of what is happening, but as soon as it subsides, the former lover ceases to seem like an ideal person, and the only one with whom you can find happiness. In this article we will talk about ways to determine the true attitude towards your loved one, sort everything out and part with false illusions forever.

Why is love unrequited?

To understand this, you first need to find out where your problem “grows legs”. When communicating with other people, you probably notice that not everyone’s first love is tragic. Girls who did not have to wait long for their happiness, for the most part, have ordinary appearance, average income, and do not stand out much from the crowd. If beauty is not the main thing, then there is something in the person himself that makes him attractive to another. The same can be said about the guys we pay attention to - one girl finds him incredibly attractive, while another sees him as a mediocre person with an ordinary appearance. But let’s return to the main question: “Why are some lucky, while others suffer from one-sided feelings?”

5 main reasons for unrequited love

Low self-esteem. Self-doubt is associated with various complexes, most often regarding appearance. If a girl is dissatisfied with herself, guys feel it and do not show interest in her;
The other extreme is inflated self-esteem. When raising their beloved daughter, many parents, who did not receive due attention and love in the family in childhood, try to give her everything, and often convince her that she is irresistible. Loving your child is a sacred thing, but permissiveness can play a cruel joke on such a girl in the future. Having become interested in a guy who is indifferent to her, she risks receiving serious psychological trauma, because she simply was not ready for such an attitude towards herself;
Emotional hunger. Oddly enough, you can fall in love out of boredom. A person does not have a favorite activity, there is no need to work, and there is a lot of free time that has nowhere to go. Most often this concerns teenagers - a boy runs the risk of getting involved with a bad campaign, and a girl runs the risk of inventing an ideal man for herself and endowing him with qualities that in reality have nothing to do with him;
Fear of real relationships. The cause of fear may be an unsuccessful experience in a previous relationship, or an example of the breakdown of a parent’s marriage. If a girl has not seen a model of a happy relationship between spouses, then she simply does not know how to build relationships with guys. She does not know how to treat a woman and cannot give a clear definition to such a concept as happiness;
Fear of change. This can happen to an adult girl to whom others begin to hint about the need for marriage, but she herself is not yet ready for this and does not want to part with freedom. Unrequited love in this case can become a defensive reaction of the psyche in order to leave everything in its place, but supposedly not of one’s own free will.

Sometimes, in order to stop shedding tears because of unrequited love, it is enough to take a closer look at your beloved man and imagine in all the details your possible life together.

Real life story: A guy's love for a girl

A handsome and confident guy really liked his new neighbor - a very young girl who had just graduated from school. The girl did not reciprocate his feelings, but she did not play on his feelings either - she simply lived her life. She was free from a relationship and lived without her parents, so the guy behaved unrestrainedly. There was no rudeness on his part, but he frightened his beloved with his obsessive attention - you can expect anything from a person who treats you fanatically.

The girl returned late from work, and he always met her at the entrance door. She wanted to quickly return home and rest, but the guy kept hoping for a conversation. Real communication did not work out, he switched to virtual. After social media network, she added him to the blacklist, he hacked her page. Then he found out her phone number, distracted her from work, called her at night, as a result of which she changed two numbers. The home phone had to be turned off.

The guy was in despair, so he decided to take extreme measures - he began to blackmail her with suicide. The girl’s life turned into a real nightmare, but the guy’s parents took the initiative in time and sent him to study abroad.

Who do you think suffered more in this story? If you look into it, there seems to be no one to blame, but did the young man think about the girl’s feelings? If this were so, he would have found the strength to accept her decision, but he thought only about his love... The essence of true love is expressed in the desire to take care of a loved one and protect him from suffering, but the guy did everything to complicate life both the girl and himself.

How to deal with feelings

Many people ask themselves this question: “What to do to cope with unrequited love?” Part of the answer is in the question itself - the main thing is not to be idle! It is quite possible to experience failure in love, but you will need time, willpower and patience.

Use all your free time to do useful things, such as study, work or hobbies. Organize your daily routine in such a way that you have no time to think about a painful topic. Try to get tired as much as possible, so that your only goal in the evening is the desire to rest;
Find a flaw in your loved one. Ideal people do not exist, and if you get to know the person whose thoughts are disturbing your soul, it is likely that he will no longer seem so perfect to you;
When thinking about your loved one, drive away sad thoughts and just be happy that he exists. Looking at a beautiful painting at an exhibition, you may admire the artist’s work, but you certainly won’t suffer because you can’t take it with you. Try to treat your beloved philosophically, rejoice at him like the rising sun or the night stars in the sky. In some cases, this method of action may even endear him to you. A calm and harmless admirer evokes more sympathy than a person actively seeking reciprocity.

Don't take unrequited love as a punishment! During the period of falling in love, people discover creative abilities that they had no idea about. It may well be that thanks to this feeling, your whole life will radically change for the better, and you will find something you like.

My 15-year-old friend Olya (a plump, streaked brown-haired girl with big beautiful eyes) went to the cemetery with her parents on Parents' Day. We traveled in our own minibus. Olya didn’t like cemeteries, but she didn’t want to stay at home alone, so she decided to go.
It was a sunny June day, but despite this, she was not in the mood at all that day. Firstly, she really wanted to date a guy, she had never had a boyfriend, a serious relationship and so on... Not like her sister Andriana. My sister was 18 years old, a natural blonde with big blue eyes, tall and slender. And Olya herself had a lot of complexes about her plumpness and short stature. She loved the most handsome high school student, but he did not reciprocate her feelings, but courted her sister Andriana. This angered her even more. Yes, she envied her sister, but she couldn’t admit it to herself.
Upon arrival at the cemetery, Olya was stubborn and did not want to get out of the car. No matter how her mom and dad tried to persuade her to go to her relative’s grave, she didn’t agree. She was left alone in the car. At first Olya was having fun, she listened to music on the player, called her best friend, and chatted a little. And then, out of the blue, her cell phone battery died. “Oh yes, I have Andriana’s cell phone with me, which she allowed me to take, because she uses it very rarely.” A pink telephone with rhinestones flashed in the sun. “Glamorous sheep,” thought Olya and turned on her favorite song. "...People, be quiet, he doesn't hear, he doesn't hear"...
Looking in the side mirror of the minibus, Olya saw something shiny. I thought it was some kind of glass. And she just looked at the shiny object. Out of wild boredom, Olya decided to get out of the car and stretch her chubby, stiff legs. Approaching the shiny object, she froze in place. It turned out to be a pendant, half a heart on a chain, the kind that lovers wear; the guy and the girl have the same halves. “Yes, this is a good sign, finally Russia will pay attention to me, he is like that, like that...”
- Girl, I'm sorry, but could you give me back the pendant, please? - said a guy who appeared nearby from somewhere.

Oh, excuse me, I just... he was lying here, in general... and... I liked him... more precisely, I thought... oh... - Olya stopped short, she looked into the light green the eyes of a stranger, on his tanned torso, outwardly the guy was about 18. Brown-haired with a very beautiful hairstyle, amazing eyes, light green, shiny. Tall, slender, he looked at the girl with such a look, as if he was trying to look into her very soul. Olya was speechless.
“He’s very dear to me, you know, Olenka...” the guy said, smiling a sweet and warm smile.
- How do you know my name? - Olya was surprised.
- Your parents passed by and said that you were left in the car in the middle of the cemetery, and I heard your name.
- Ahh, well, they’re like that... What’s your name? And what are you doing here alone?
- My name is Stas. I just have a friend buried here.
- And how old are you?
- I'm 18.
- But I’m 15.
- I know...
- Did my parents say that too?
- No... well, it looks like it.
- Ahh, well, hold your pendant...
- Thank you, dear girl. Well I'll go...
- Wait, maybe we can chat a little more? My sister Andriana has a similar pendant.
- What's your sister's name? Is Andriana your sister? Golubeva Andriana? - the guy immediately changed his face, his eyes widened, his facial expression took on a pained expression, and a quiet sigh escaped from his chest. - Andrianochka...
- Well, yes, we have that surname... How do you know my sister? Have you met her? Look at me, otherwise I'm jealous.
- No... And you, I see, are already jealous?
- Well, I was joking... - and Olya blushed.
- Okay, I like you too, you're very cute.
- Is it true? Oh thank you. I liked you right away.
- Shall we go for a walk along the path deep into the cemetery?
- Well, let’s go, just give me your hand, otherwise today I’m wearing sandals, I’ll twist my ankle anyway... Oh, how cold your hand is, it seems to be hot outside, but my feet are always cold, and my mother says.. .
- Quiet, dear, we will come soon, and you will see this beauty...
- Which one? Can a cemetery be beautiful? I feel fear here, wild fear, but with you I’m not so afraid, with you I feel so calm...

Well, here we are,” said Stas and led Olya to the gazebo. Birds were singing around, which is strange for a cemetery. The gazebo was wooden, patterned, all entwined with flowers, in the middle of it there was a round table and benches. They sat down. Olya put her head on Stas’s shoulder, the guy hugged her.
They chatted for a long time about this and that, even about fashion and all sorts of girly things. Olya fell in love with Stas. She could already imagine how they were walking arm in arm down the street, and everyone was admiring what a beautiful couple they were. And even pretty Andriana will be jealous. Olya fell asleep in her dreams. I woke up to a sharp gust of wind. She opened her eyes. She was sitting alone in the same gazebo, clouds were gathering in the sky. She saw Stas's jacket thrown over her shoulders. The same heart lay on the table nearby. Suddenly Olya saw the inscription scribbled next to it: “Tell Andriana.”
Olya took the heart and didn’t understand how he could leave her! They didn't even exchange phone numbers! Well how?? With tears, she began to call: “Stas! Stas, where are you? Where did you go? Why did you leave me alone?” But no one responded. Olya took off Stas’s jacket and threw it to the ground in a rage. She proudly raised her head and walked forward along the path.

Arriving home, she told her sister about what had happened and angrily threw her a pendant. The sister burst into tears, took the pendant, pressed it to her lips and ran away.
The three of us had dinner: Olya, dad and mom. Andriana was nowhere to be found.
- Where is your sister?
- Well, how do I know where this fool ran away? Damn, I said hello to her from Stas, gave her a pendant, and she rushed out of the house like mad.
- Wait, what Stas?
- Well, there was a guy Stas at the cemetery... - and Olya told the story.
- Can't be! - Mom and Dad looked at each other in fear.
- I'll go after her! - said the father and ran out onto the porch.
- Mom, explain to me what is happening here? - Olya demanded.
- Listen, daughter, it’s a long story... Our Andriana had a childhood friend, Stas. They were the same age, they were friends, they were inseparable. He secretly loved her, well, she’s a beauty among us. And she loved someone else. I told her a thousand times to pay attention to Stasik, he was a good boy, so kind. But Andriana simply held him for a friend. He gave her gifts, and wooed her, and jumped from a cliff, gave her gold, flowers, protected her, and looked after her beautifully. But she did not notice him until his father became director of the bank. And when I found out about this, I immediately decided to date him and asked for expensive gifts. But she cheated on him, we were silent and covered for her.
They loved one place very much. Well, teenagers have their own quirks. They liked the gazebo in the cemetery. So beautiful... That’s where they sat with their friends, telling horror stories. Andriana and Stas often spent time there. And so, for Andriana’s next birthday, Stas came to us, so happy, he was in a hurry to congratulate. And she's not at home. Well, my father and I said that he was probably sitting in the gazebo... Well, he went there. She arrives, goes into the gazebo, and there Andriana kisses someone else. He threw a platinum pendant on a chain on her table and said: “I came to congratulate you, and you’re cuckolding me with some bastard...”
A fight broke out between the guys, Andriana’s friend pulled out a knife and stabbed Stas in the heart right there. Stas died in Andriana's arms. She cried for a long time. I asked for forgiveness. But she never came to the cemetery or to the funeral... She found another guy. Yes, what can you do, it’s a daughter after all, my dad and I love her, no matter what she is.

The father found Andriana in the gazebo, pale, half-dead, moving her lips, unable to say anything. She babbles and babbles something incomprehensible, stares at one point and keeps repeating: “I don’t want to live like this, I don’t want”...
Since then, Andriana has been treated in a psychiatric clinic, doctors say that some guy comes to her and visits her every day, after which she resorts to suicide attempts and becomes more and more aggressive...

edited news Melford - 24-06-2013, 13:59

Anyone interested in my writings, you are welcome))

There was such a beautiful but sad story in my life...

When I first got a job in our editorial office and was looking closely at the new team, my attention was immediately drawn to our proofreader. A man much older than me (I’ve never had anyone like him). At that time he was already over 40, I was only 23 years old. Only after the divorce I am free, beautiful and talented. But he was, by God, some kind of misogynist. He treated women with sarcasm, I reveled in his sense of humor, so he could put some other upstart in his place. He was short, thin, with clearly visible bald spots on the sides, green-eyed brunette. But I really liked him. Precisely for his character, his presentation. He was extraordinary, always had his own opinion on everything and never sucked up to his superiors, which aroused my admiration. He did not favor me, just like other women, he treated me with mocking indifference, encouraging my mistakes in the materials that he checked. Maybe that's why I liked him so much. I’m used to the attention of men, but here I just ignore it.

Later I met my daughter’s father, we started a very whirlwind romance, I flew to work as if on wings. It was then that I began to notice the first notes of interest in my direction from the proofreader. But I had no time for him, I was in love and happy.

Many people here know how our story with our daughter’s bio-dad ended. I remember how the entire editorial staff escorted me to my ex-wedding)) WE submitted an application and had to sign at the registry office. The editor gave me a paid free day for this. But that day my ex-husband decided that we shouldn’t be together after all, and I came back all in tears. The entire editorial team reassured me and throughout my pregnancy they cared for me, cherished me and supported me in every possible way.

This is where our story with the proofreader began. Our offices were very close, his was behind my wall. I began to visit him often, he invited me to drink tea and discuss news from the editorial office. Then he gave me an interesting job - editing a collection of poets and writers; I was always good with stylistics. We chatted for hours. He was incredibly interesting to me and I was very flattered by his attention, because I was the only one of the entire female editorial team who received it.

E.Yu. (these are his initials) has never been married. He said that he was in love with unrequited love in his youth and no longer tormented himself with these worthless things about love. I perceived him as an experienced, incredibly interesting man, but just not as a man. I do not know why. No, that’s all. He began sneaking strawberries into my office. In winter. It was nice. During the lunch break we walked along the Neva and chatted for hours. And I still didn’t understand anything like a fool. I thought this was just support in my situation. The editors were shocked when they found out that our bio dad abandoned us. They always appreciated me and could never have thought that in such an interesting position I would be left alone.

I felt very cozy and comfortable with him. He cared so much about me, it really helped take my mind off thoughts of my loneliness. But then one day all this comfort disappeared. A letter arrived at my home. It's so funny, I haven't received a letter in the mail for ages. He wrote this. A very touching, tender letter. He wrote in the style of Pushkin-Lermontov to his lovers. He wrote that he sees me as his bride, that my daughter will become his daughter, that she will never know that he is not her father. He asked me to marry him.

I was shocked! I may have felt his interest in me, but I never thought that everything would go so far. I thought for a long time about what to answer... and wrote everything as it is. That he is a friend, a teacher, an incredibly interesting and talented person for me, but not a beloved man. I can't make him happy.

God, how he grieved. He came to work, there was no face on him. Black circles under the eyes... He didn’t talk to me for a week. Then the first one came up.

In short, this rigmarole lasted a long time. We once went on a trip, where I once again tried to tell him that nothing would work out with us. He hugged me then, and I felt nauseous. I still don’t know what it was. Maybe I was all about my daughter then, or maybe I hadn’t completely let go of her father from my heart and kept hoping that he would return.

E.Yu. wrote and published his collections and was a fairly well-known poet in the Leningrad region. Later, I received his book by mail, which contained a poem dedicated to me. With my name and initials. This is how he immortalized his love. A VERY beautiful poem and incredibly sad.

Just before giving birth, when I was already on maternity leave with a fairly decent belly, he came and began to ask my parents for my hand, who were only a little older than him. My dad was categorically against it, my mom didn’t take him seriously. I was ashamed. For him, for yourself. I understood that I would never be able to be with him in my life, much less share the same bed.

So he came to me until the very birth, stood under the windows on cold winter nights with flowers in his hands, threw stones, sang pechni, an adult teetotal guy!

His last attempt was when my daughter was 2 months old, but nothing changed in me towards him. He wrote me one last letter and disappeared. Later I found out that he quit. Now I don’t know where he is, what’s wrong with him. But no one has ever loved me so touchingly and tenderly in my life. Sometimes I think that if I had tried to be with him then, what if we could have been truly happy... He called me his angel, I think that he would never have been able to offend me or the child in his life. Although my mother says that poets are still romantics. That he would run away from everyday life and his daughter’s health problems. I don’t know... But you will leave in my memory the warmest and most tender memories of this person.

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