I Was Going To Marry My Gf Until I Met My First Love. I’m A Cheater

I Was Going To Marry My Gf Until I Met My First Love. I’m A Cheater


Hey, people! I’m Rob. And I want you to do one thing for me. Close your eyes and imagine – a borderless
coastline, the mountain face in the distance with an almost ancient lighthouse on the top,
and the tiled terracotta roofs of tiny houses at the foot of it. Terrific landscape, right? This was the view I used to enjoy starting
from the very first day of my life. I was born and grew up in the coziest beach
house ever. It was not very big, but my parents managed
to rent out half of it to earn a living. One of the most remarkable guests we ever
had was a former chef of one of the fanciest restaurants of its time, Mr. Rossetti. Apparently, he liked my mom and tried to flirt
with her when my dad couldn’t see them. He was teaching her to cook a lot of different,
delicious things, and I loved watching him making magic in our kitchen. Little did I know then that I’d find his cooking
(and flirting) advice pretty useful in the future. You’ll see for yourself soon. But my favorite guests were the Rodgers family,
who once spent the whole summer with us. Emily, their daughter, was only a couple of
years older than me and she was very funny and… Well, what can I say? I couldn’t help but fall in love with her. It was the very first time I liked a girl
and I was very shy and didn’t know how to act. But I spent most of the time watching her
draw – she was really good at it. “I missed Emily when they left, but, you know,
I was only 10 and my heart had not yet learned what it meant to be broken, although I found
myself remembering the two of us having fun pretty often. It took me four years until I heard about
the Rodgers again – mom told me that they were coming back for a visit. I was trying to imagine what she looked like
now, at 16 years old. When I saw her, she seemed to be even more
attractive than I could’ve imagined, but when I tried to talk to her, she turned out to
be distant and cold. Her dad explained that Emily wasn’t happy
to have to come here and spend the whole summer with her old parents. It was them who insisted that they all go
together because it was their last summer together before she graduated and set off
for college. So, they told me I shouldn’t take her behavior
personally. Once, through the open window, I heard Emily
arguing loudly with her mom. As far as I understood, she was complaining
that there was nothing new and interesting here for her to photograph. And it hit me! The next day I invited her to a “private
excursion for VIP-guests” as I called it. We took bicycles and set out for the old lighthouse. If she didn’t like this, then there was nothing
in the world picturesque enough for her, I thought. Emily was amazed by the lighthouse itself
and by the sea view from it. And while she was taking hundreds of photos,
I told her the many interesting stories that were connected to this place. For example, I knew that it was here where
my dad had proposed to my mom and where she said “Yes.” And I once had a fight with my dad and came
out here to live for two days. As I told all of my stories to Emily, I saw
her smile for the first time since they had arrived. And, honestly, I thought that I had finally
gotten into her good graces, ‘cuz our little trip had stirred her curiosity and interest. So, another day, I decided to take Emily out
since I was supposed to be meeting my friends at a café and I thought that this would be
a perfect chance to show her that I was interested in her. But everything did not go according to plan. In short, I should’ve invited Emily on a
date, rather than let her socialize with my fellas, especially their older brother – Roy. He was taller than me and had wider shoulders,
yah, you know, physically he had everything possible to attract a 16-year-old girl. And guess what happened the next day. He picked her up right after breakfast and
brought her back super late. I was 14 and broken-hearted, and I was really
wishing that this summer would end as fast as possible. A couple of weeks later, I found Emily hiding
downstairs crying. I decided to try to calm her down, and she
confusedly said that Roy had dumped her for another girl. Honestly, I was ready to kill that jerk, but
first I needed to cheer up the sad young lady next to me. As Mr. Rossetti always taught me, feed the
girl and she’ll be yours. I knew I could whip up a really good frittata,
so I invited Emily into the kitchen, and over the next 20 minutes or so she was already
laughing at something stupid I was telling her. You’d be wrong to think that this was the
happy ending of our story though. Because a few days later she just left with
her family. But before the end of their trip, she told
me that my frittata was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten and that I should
consider cooking as a future career. Her compliment really stuck in my mind, so
when I turned 17, I insisted that my parents allow me to go to NY to study culinary arts. My life in the Big Apple was amazing. I turned out to be the best in my class and
got a nice part-time job at a restaurant. I had a lot of friends, went to a lot of parties,
and, well – I even met a nice girl. After a year of being in a relationship, we
decided to live together. We rented an apartment and, in our quest,
to try to organize the space and make everything cozy one day, we went to a flea market. There, among the ruins of everyone’s stuff,
I saw a nice painting with a distinctly familiar landscape – a cliff, the lighthouse, and
a tiny house in the front. It was the same view anyone could have had
sitting on the porch of my parents’ beach house. “I couldn’t believe my eyes! I rushed to the seller to ask where he got
it from, and he told me that the girl who once rented his place had accidentally left
it under the bed when she moved out. Of course, he knew nothing about where that
girl was now. And I felt a strange and strong need to have
this painting. It looked like it had found me, actually. I bought it for a small fee and you can be
sure that I didn’t tell anyone, especially my girlfriend Alice, about its history. Once we settled in our apartment, we threw
a party and one of Alice’s girlfriends came with her new boyfriend. As soon as he saw the painting, he, sort of,
got enchanted with it. It turned out he knew the artist; he had studied
with her at art school, but then she switched to photography. Her name was Emily and she had a photo studio
downtown. Do I really need to say how amazed I was? Secretly, not telling another soul, I found
the address of that studio and rushed there to see Emily. When I saw her, I immediately knew that I
was still in love with her. I went up to her to say, “Hi”, and she
was also surprised and happy to see me, and we chatted for a second, and later met at
a café, and… Isn’t it obvious that we should be together? I mean, it was almost insane how our lives
had intersected with one another over the years. By the way, Emily also said she liked me and
she definitely wouldn’t mind getting into a relationship. But now I need to figure out how to break-up
with Alice, ‘cuz I don’t want to be a cheater. That’s going to be hard, I guess, considering
the whole living-together thing. Don’t forget to click on every button possible
to show how you liked my story and that you’re dying to share it.

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