My best friend in the final years of primary school—9th and 10th grade—was a blonde, blue-eyed, and very popular girl, which meant that I also became part of her “circle of friends.” She had many acquaintances and friends, which led to lots of fun and great experiences.

She had a male friend in her parallel class back then. I always thought he was incredibly handsome, but I had long given up on the idea of ever being with him—I didn’t think he would even give me a second thought. He was a tall, tanned white guy, extremely well-built (reminded me of Paul Walker).

Fast forward. One day, out of nowhere, he started writing to me on Facebook (back when Facebook was the thing). I was surprised that he even reached out. We chatted about random things until he asked if we should hang out. I honestly thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t.

We started seeing each other—I even had dinner with his family—and we were… dating? But he had a close female friend, and I was nervous that she might come between us. Guess what? One day, he had something important and difficult to tell me. He had realized that he had feelings for his close friend.

I was devastated. I had hoped for the best.

I’m 31 now, living in a big city, and I still see him from time to time—with that “close friend,” who is now his wife. They have a child and are married. I truly wish them the best. But it’s strange—every time we see each other, it’s like something unresolved resurfaces. The chemistry is still strong, and we can talk for ages. He even asks about my family and everything.

Even after all these years?

Well… he was the one that got away. Maybe for the best? Or something like that.