I’d never heard of love bombing in my 20s.
When I met my (former) husband I was charmed by how romantic he was. We met online and from the first conversation he opened up on a deep level, wanted to know me, and made me feel like the only girl in the room, even though we were in a virtual one.
“You can ask me anything. I’ll answer honestly,” he messaged. “Like a 20 questions kind of thing.”
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I’d just broken up with my boyfriend of a year. I wanted a wedding and kids; I was heading towards my mid-20s and he wasn’t the guy. We both knew it. There were no hard feelings. We were friends before we dated and never really in love, but he filled a space in my life. We’d had a lot of fun together and now I was lonely.
When this new charming man entered the scene, it got serious quick and filled the gaping hole my boyfriend left. We called each other every night and started to talk about the big issues. Marriage came up before we’d even met.
He lived across the country from me and it took him a few months to save up for his flight. In the meantime, he upped his wooing by sending me daily handwritten letters (who does that?). He often tucked little gifts and poems inside the envelopes too. He made sure I felt special and told me every night how much I meant to him.
Even though it felt scary as hell falling for a guy I hadn’t met yet, I couldn’t help myself.
When we met the romance increased. He arrived with roses. We took romantic walks, ate out at expensive restaurants, and the gifts, cards, and poems became a weekly prescription. I swallowed it all down. I was addicted. Whenever I had to leave him I felt like I was being ripped down the middle. All I could think about was being back by his side again, showered in his love.