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I lay on my bed, letting warm, wet tears fall as I picked up the phone and dialed *Paul's number. As he answered with his usual, upbeat "hello," I thought about how close we'd become after three years of dating. We were best friends. And that's why this was so hard. For a moment I felt like hanging up and pretending I hadn't called, but I couldn't. I needed to go through with this. I hesitated, pausing. My throat felt dry as I told him why I'd called. "We have to break up."

Paul was quiet for a long moment before letting out a long and frustrated sigh. I told him why I decided to end the relationship. "We never talk about God. He's … so important and being with you … is hurting my relationship with him."

"Sometimes you're just too serious about God," Paul mumbled.

I cried harder, barely getting out what I wanted and needed to say.

"We don't hang out with friends anymore. … We … we have different interests, but we never get to do them because we're always together. I never talk with my parents anymore and I can't remember the last time I hung out with my little sister." Paul sighed again. "Do you really think I care about them? If you want to break up, then whatever."

In that moment I realized how far off track I'd gotten. We were both Christians, but really weren't compatible. He didn't think our exclusive relationship was a problem. But I knew focusing only on him had hurt so much in my life. Paul and I said goodbye and I pressed the "end" button on my phone.

It was over. Curling up in bed and crying harder than I ever had before, I let my mind drift back, hoping to discover where things went wrong.

It was early December, five years ago, and I was the new girl at a Christian school. Julia, a fellow eighth–grader, had befriended me. One afternoon we were jogging side–by–side, doing our warm up laps around the school gym.

"Do you really think Paul likes me?" I asked hopefully.

"I think so. I mean, he wrote you that note."

During my next class I wrote Paul back. We wrote notes for two weeks. Then one night he came to my choir concert.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me." Paul asked me after the concert. He looked as nervous as I felt, but I tried to keep my heart from leaping from my body.

"OK."

After that night we hung out almost every weekend and were officially considered "an item" by our classmates.

By sophomore year Paul and I were inseparable. I began missing my friends, but I knew I'd miss Paul more. I didn't realize it at the time, but my relationship with him was beginning to consume me.

It was mid–June and the summer before my junior year. I sat in the living room reading entries in my sophomore yearbook when the phone rang.

"Mom! If that's Sarah just let it go."

Sarah left a message on the answering machine.

"Kate, I really miss you. We haven't hung out in forever. I know you love Paul, but you need to make time for your girlfriends. I'm not the only one who feels like this. Call me." Click.

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