Semesters of love

When I look back on these four years of college, I’ll remember eating lots of Mother Bear’s pizza, dancing in the kitchen to Justin Timberlake with my roommates and dedicating hours of my time and energy into IU Student Media.

But aside from a handful of great friends and eight semesters of academics, I find myself defining my growth during college through a series of relationships.

Freshman year was a struggle. My high school boyfriend and I had broken up solely because I left for college and I spent most of the year mourning him, and mourning high school.

So I started dating someone to take my mind off that. He too had gone through a breakup with his girlfriend from high school. He was wild – partied every day of the week, never attended class and was my complete opposite. He made me feel so college.

But when he dropped out halfway through freshman year, I have to say I was relieved.
Unfortunately, I fell on old habits and found myself dating my high school boyfriend again right before I went back to school for my sophomore year. By this time, I had established a group of friends, lived off campus and started working for the newspaper. Needless to say, our relationship was far from what it was in the glory days of high school and it fizzled by the end of the semester.

Two months later, I met someone new. He was a senior and we got along great. We jumped into a serious relationship right before he graduated, unconcerned with what that could mean for us. Well, sure enough, four months later it went kaput – completely out of nowhere.

I was surprisingly devastated and spent an uncommon amount of time dwelling. I spent the first semester of my junior year wallowing in loneliness and a full workload. One day, I woke up, completely over it, and just two weeks later I put myself out there and met someone new.

Because he was graduating, we weren’t looking for anything too serious. But no matter how hard we tried, we could not stay apart. After he graduated and officially began his tenure with the Army, we were supposed to be “over.” But he called me faithfully each night before bed and we slowly realized that we were not over just yet.  
And so at the start of my senior year, I unexpectedly found myself with a boyfriend still, only this time two hours away instead of two minutes. The distance has since stretched to 10 hours, but we’re still miraculously together as I prepare to graduate. Four years, four men (well, not counting some failed attempts).

And with each one, I’ve come closer to understanding who I am.

No boy can define who I am, but by being in relationships with them, I’ve learned to love myself and learned what not to do. I can’t say all have been successful, but I’ve certainly seen improvements with each one.

My diploma might get me a job, but it’s these four crucial years of dating that will score me a good man in the (far) future.