1000+ Words on Transition

I had my first girlfriend when I was in fourth grade. Her name was Adrienne, and I am certain that she was very cute by fourth grade standards. I transferred schools after third grade because my parents moved because of new jobs. I was finally at a bigger school (my first school was less than 100 students K-8, and I was almost always in the same classes as my older brother), which meant I had a chance to go and make friends in peer groups that were mine alone. I really had no interest in girls at that age, but it seemed that all the boys with whom I was trying to make friends were very interested in the opposite sex and it was, therefore, trendy to have a girlfriend. The relationship between Adrienne and I was typical for the age, we broke up and got back together three or four times a week, sometimes multiple times per day. It didn't matter, her role was basically to sit with all the other girlfriends and watch me play basketball with my friends, though she did give me my very first kiss on the buss back from a class field trip. This was the beginning of a very destructive trend for me.
In sixth grade I was very into girls. I still hung out with my friends, but the peer group was much more exclusive because everyone was having "makeout parties", and you were not invited unless you had a significant other. This went on for all of sixth grade, and I am fairly certain that I had at least five different dates to said makeout parties. Then my perception changed.
I moved again after sixth grade and made friends with a kid named Brian. Brian did not care for the status quo, in fact he abhorred it. This attitude suited me well because I was, at the time, very angry to have moved away from my friends and makeout partners. Brian and I spent our days at school teasing nerdy kids (I was in all the GATE classes, so there was no shortage) and making girls cry by calling them various names and being outright mean. I did not do much outside of school for the most part. This trend continued until the end of eight grade when I made a couple new friends that were, again, interested in girls. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I was not without a girlfriend during this time, in fact, I had very pretty girlfriends, but I had no interest in spending any time with them outside of school.
As a freshman in high school, I wanted to meet girls, but the puberty fairy had apparently left me behind. I managed to cling on to one girl at the end of my freshmen year and that lasted about half of the summer. The rest of my high school days were spent, I assume like the rest of my male peers, attempting to find girls who would help me lose my virginity. This was a losing battle until I was 18 and a senior in high school. I had met a girl though work and we ended up dating for about three and a half years. I admit that I did not have any interest in being with her after one year, but I was far too big of a coward to face the awkwardness of work and our mutual friends if we broke up.
I was ready, after three and a half years, to transfer schools. Rather than choosing Berkeley, Oregon State, or another California or Oregon school to which I was accepted, I chose to go as far away as possible, to make it logically impossible to continue my relationship. In shorter words, I ran because I did not want to be with her and did not want to tell her.
You can ask yourself now, or maybe you already did two or three times, why the hell this matters. The answer is that for you it doesn't, but to me it is the foundation of every wrong I have ever committed toward a female since.
Since the day I left the west coast, every relationship I have been in has served the purpose of fitting in. Every one night stand has been to prove myself to my friends in high school who never had a problem finding a slutty girl to cuddle up with. If I had a girlfriend, it was to serve the purpose of company, so as not to feel lonely, or has been someone who I wanted to have a one night stand with, but of whom I was too cowardly to rid myself. I am easily infatuated, so it was not hard to tell girlfriends that I loved them, in fact, I believed it myself. It is far easier to lie to one's self than anyone imagines, and it is only after you tire of the person that you finally realize that you were lying all along.
About two years ago I met a girl, much younger than I, who was everything I was not. She was probably the sweetest and most selfless person I have ever met. I loved her with all my heart, and I think I always will to some degree, but she was not right for me. I could finally see clearly a future between two people, one of them being me, and she was not the other. It broke my heart to end it, and I often think selfishly of making contact with her, but wiser people than I (women) have advised me not to, and I feel they are correct. The only solace I take from this is that I finally know what I want, and I finally want to be with someone special, not for status, not for show, not for revenge, not for spite, but for me and for her.
Unfortunately, I spent much of my formidable years lying so often that I never let myself see the truth. I see now how spectacular many of the women I dated were, and I wish that I could have a chance to show them how great they are and hope that I get another chance to perhaps make these feelings mean something. If I do not receive that chance I have committed myself to the fact that it is deserved, and can do nothing about it. I can only hope that this realization can prevent me from backsliding into the same lifestyle and attitude which put me in this very spot.