There I was, a junior at the University of Maryland, sitting in my Coastal Environments class on a Monday morning, half-listening to the renowned Dr. Leatherman (who was later dubbed “Dr. Beach” by Oprah… yeah, THAT Oprah), but mostly focusing on composing a letter to my girlfriend, Maggie.

Maggie meant the world to me. She was the love of my life. She was my college girlfriend.

Okay, technically, she was my ex-girlfriend because she broke it off two nights before. But as I scribbled my heartfelt plea I heard Dr. Beach lecture about ocean tides and erosion. He mentioned how the ocean’s natural ebb and flow ate away at the beaches of Ocean City, MD, and laughed unapologetically at the Worcester County councilman who had recently championed $60 million for beach replenishment even though one big ass hurricane would (and did) wipe out the $60 million dollar effort. His was an ironic chuckle, and I too laughed because Dr. Beach was correct.

I stopped my writing as it hit me. Finally, it became crystal clear. My relationship with Maggie was just like beach erosion; the ebb and flow of ocean tides ate away at the coast much like the highs and lows of my rocky relationship made me want to rip my eyes out with my fingernails. And the solution was as clear as the simile: Money was the answer.

I knew what I had, and I knew what I didn’t have. I had Maggie. Not the hottest girl in the dorm, she was short and skinny and couldn’t dance, which of course proved she was bad in bed regardless of how much she put out.

I should’ve known the relationship was doomed, and it was probably a blessing that she broke up with me, but the fact remained she DID put out. And what’s more important to a 19-year-old boy than getting laid on a regular basis? She gave me sex. Period. That’s what I had.

$60 million dollars is what I didn’t have. Fortunately, Dr. Beach’s lecture sparked something, an idea. I set my Bic to paper, furiously scribbling words. I told Maggie she was my “light,” I promised her my “undying faith” for “here to eternity” and “infinity and beyond” (seriously, this was the same semester “Toy Story” hit theaters). I used words like “hath” and “cometh” and “ye.”

And then, in conclusion, I explained that even though I didn’t have any money, I would pledge my soul to her. I literally told her she would own me.

I mailed the letter that day. I figured she’d get it by Wednesday. By Friday I called her. She claimed she never got the letter, but I’m convinced she did in fact receive the letter but was just too embarrassed for me to confirm she or anyone else in the universe had ever read it.

However, she was glad I called because she was still willing to have sex with me just as long as she’d be free to date other guys and I wouldn’t obsess as much. Even though she broke my heart, was horrible in bed, I agreed to her terms.

Dan, 29
Operations Administrator

She was probably the first girl I ever loved.

The problem being, I didn’t realize it – not until it was too late.

Truth be told, I was the one who broke up with her, for what I now perceive as an utterly stupid reason: during a New Year’s Eve (in 2001 if memory serves right), she kissed one of my friends on a dare. Actually it was more like a peck in the lips, but it felt just too wrong for me to be able to cope.

That morning I told her I was through with her; she replied that she loved me and that she was just provoking me (which indeed she thoroughly enjoyed doing – all the time); I shrugged and walked away, stating that I simply didn’t care.

It took me a few years to realize I had then incurred one of the most notorious stupidities in my life.

THAT is what hurts the most, really.

Not the act of having broken up with a girl I actually loved for a stupid little reason. The real problem was that…

1) it turns out she really did love me, back then; and

2) she turned out to be quite the vengeful little… uh, female-dog.

An unfortunate combination, which caused her to become driven to get back and haunt me… by messing around with most of my close friends. This time around – for real, and with reckless, unabashed cruelty. Cassandra was the first woman I loved as an adult, and she embedded me with a sorrow unlimited: but for one thing I’m thankful: she succeeded in making me realize the depths of my own stupidity.

It got better… eventually. After a half dozen years, I finally felt I’d gotten over her. I suppose that occasionally a pretty flower may blossom from the foulest manure; in this case, a better sense of self eventually surfaced, as consequence of the ugly events Cassie forced me to endure.

I am now more of a humble person, and somehow I seem to have a better sense of perspective.

After 4 years of not talking to her I ran into my ex girlfriend by chance; it wasn’t much of a conversation. I told her that it was alright; I had been a moron, she had been just the same. In our turn, we both screwed up.

I remember telling her ”It’s alright now, Cassie. I just hope you’re doing well. I’m finally at peace because after all this time I no longer love you”.

I could swear she meant to kiss me as I walked away. Looking back one last time, I could swear her eyes were watering down.

Who knows, maybe it was just my imagination.

Casper, 25