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There was a boy I met in sixth grade.
He liked me, I liked him. We didn't date, he and I both knew we were too young.
We were basically "flirty" throughout the year.
That summer, he moved to my neighborhood.
I was so happy.
The day before seventh grade began, he asked me to go to the movies with him after school the next day. I said yes.
He asked me to be his offical "girlfriend" a few weeks later.
When summer rolled around, we took a trip to the water park together.
He held my hand when I was afraid to go down the biggest slide.
After that, he told me he was going to the bathroom. He was there for almost half an hour.
When he came back, I asked him what had taken so long. "There was line," He had said.
In eigth grade, my best friend came up to me and told me that my boyfriend kissed her. I didn't believe her. We got into a huge fight, we didn't speak for weeks.
After that, she told me again he had kissed her. We fought yet again.
This time, we didn't make up.
He and I started to grow apart in high school.
One day, I saw him in the bathroom with another girl, doing things I don't care to repeat.
We broke up, I was devasted.
Ladies and Gentlemen, meet my first boyfriend, Justin.
There's a point to all this. And here it is:

Sometimes things are too good to be true.

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