Archive for the ‘First Love’ Category

Dear J.

We met when I was in the seventh grade, and you were an eighth-grader. That was twenty years ago. There was always something between us; we were intense, you a Pisces, me a Scorpio. Ain’t it the truth. We talked, we laughed, we flirted, and I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with my body there in its wheelchair, didn’t know how to feel or be pretty in your eyes. But you were a kind high school boy, and said truly meaningful things like, “I really like when you wear that sweater, it makes your boobs look really good.” I am pretty sure we loved each other, in the sweetest, most longing kind of way. Time went by; we went on one date, to the movies to see Claire and Leo kill themselves for love, and you held my hand for the first time on the way home. It took another whole year for our first kiss, even after everything. I have never felt more special.

More time went by, we decided we were not for each other, met, dated, and screwed other people. But it was always there, that chance we had never taken, the secret refuge and promise of nostalgia. You always said you wanted to be married and a dad by the time you were 26, and you were. You are a great dad, even though you and his mom got divorced. Through it all we would touch base sometimes. We always knew the other one was out there, something good, something sweet, somehow ours. You used to call me long distance from overseas when you were in the service and you hated it.

More years went by, and I would hear about you, or see you on Facebook, and there was still that old pull. I asked you, out of the blue, to go out of town with me, and you wanted to, but had just started a new job, and couldn’t get away. But you wanted to, you said so, and I believed you.

You got a new phone this summer and texted me from your new number. We had maybe not really talked in ten years or so. You finally admitted that you had unresolved feelings for me, how much you wished we had taken bigger steps in our relationship, and how you thought of me so much. You said if we had gone out of town you would have taken your chance to make love,with me, and love and love and love with me. I asked you if you realized you are the person that other than my family has been in my personal interior life the longest, and wasn’t it great to know we still had each other in some way? You said you did, and yes, it was, and like me, you were glad and thankful.

We made plans to see each other shortly after that, when you were going to be in ____, an hour away, for a week-long work conference. We were going to meet here, at my house, alone and finally adults, on a Friday night. I cleaned the house from top to bottom and put on makeup. And all that day, you did not answer my calls or my texts. You did not come. You did not call or text, or make any contact with me. No excuses, no stories, nothing. I was sure it was because something happened with your son, or to you. You would never do that to me. Not the boy I knew, with those beautiful deep brown eyes. The one I had known for so long, and who maybe loved previous teenage me. I preferred to imagine you in some emergency, and was prepared to give you enough time to get in touch.

Weeks went by. No word. Casually, I saw a comment you posted on someone’s FB. With a sense of disbelief, I clicked on your name, because it meant that clearly you were right there where you had always been, and not forgivably run off the road, in a ditch and then in traction. And I saw your status, saying how happy and in love you were, and I saw your new girlfriend.

I just don’t understand. Did you decide it wasn’t worth it, that the chemistry was not enough, that out twenty-year history was not worth a returned phone call, or a straight answer? I will never know for sure, because I will never ask you, and because it doesn’t really matter. You aren’t who I thought you were. You are not the man you say you strive to be.

You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, but I’m not really angry anymore. I’m not hurt that you treated me the way you did this summer. I am very hurt, though (and you deserve to know and hear this) that you did not respect me or everything that had been between us. I am sad that I feel now that I never really knew you at all, and that when I look back on all those sweet, fond, innocent, exciting, charged, tender, funny, laughing, sexy, patient, stolen moments, they are tarnished now, and kind of empty. You have stolen away the brightness and warmth that you yourself gave me, and that I had made a part of myself for so long.

Goodbye. You made this choice. I don’t need to know why. But I hope you stay gone. I won’t try to find you.


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We used to sit in band rehearsal and draw on each others sneakers.
We used to swim in your neighbors pool, yearning for the moments our skin would accidentally touch underwater.
Someone told me you looked a little bit like you should have been my brother, not my boyfriend. But I thought that would turn out okay for how cute and blonde our babies would be. Creepy!

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I lost the only love note you ever gave me. It was the best love note I ever got. Most emotional. Most intense. Most real. Most true. I put it in the blue cup on my windowsill. At some point, I must have gotten worried it would fade in the sun, so I moved it to my box of notes. Under the bed. That must be what happened because the only other terrifying possibility is that my mom found it. Read it. And threw it away?

I had a confidence in our love that I have never been able to replicate. I was so sure that it was forever that I wasn’t jealous when you told me about girls you had crushes on. I wasn’t jealous when you went away to college and were surrounded by other women. Older women. More experienced women. I wasn’t jealous when you dated other women. Women you really liked a whole lot and had a lot of feelings for. It didn’t matter to me, because I knew we would ultimately be together. We had to be.

I almost feel like I wasn’t even jealous when you married her. I still didn’t think it was real.

Now I’m not sure if it was the best love note ever because I can’t reread it repeatedly. We didn’t have electronic archives of every emotion back then. We only had rereading the note until the corners were bent and the creases started permanently fading the ink. Maybe it was a horrible love note and you weren’t even that into me. It’s lost forever though now, so I’ll just never know. I guess getting jealous wouldn’t have helped, but perhaps it was foolish of me to not see. I sometimes feel more mournful about the lost note than the lost love. However brief, that emotion was real and spoken. Not lost forever.

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As these things do it all started out innocently enough – you were literally the boy next door. You moved in with your mom and sisters one day in junior high. I was riding my bike and I met you. You were cute and polite…you know, just like a boy next door. You were younger than me, by just enough.

Soon we rode bikes together and listened to music. You befriended my brother so it was always the three of us. You liked me and I knew it. I liked you too. My brother knew it and ignored it. My friends thought you were cute but we all agreed you were a baby, too young for us. I was coming out of this unfortunate ugly duckling phase and other boys were starting to get it. I liked that too – I’ve always liked attention. You didn’t like it. You started talking about how you loved me, to everyone but me. My brother told you to cut the shit. But you didn’t, because you’ve always liked attention too.

I started dating other boys – one boy in particular that put a bee in your bonnet. Your family kind of sucked so you were always around my house, sleeping over, hanging with my brother, making sandwiches, borrowing my CDs, joking with my mom. You were kind of like Eli Cash in The Royal Tenenbaums. You always asked me to be your girlfriend but I just laughed and said you were too young. But everyone knew I loved you too. Despite these other age-appropriate boys. Despite everything. We would lie around and listen to new bands, and sometimes kind of brush hands and arms and look at each other and everyone knew. We would fake fight and hug and kiss and make a ruckus. My brother wanted to murder us both sometimes.

I ended up dating this boy your age senior year. That added significantly to the bees in your bonnet. You confronted me with lots of ‘what the fucks?’ and ‘how could yous?’. You hated me. We danced at the prom because you came with some other girl. You still hated me. I graduated. Went to college. Broke up with that boy because he was expendable, a summer fling, nothing like you. You still hated me. But it wasn’t about anyone’s age. It was about me loving you and being too scared to fuck it up and make you go away for good. You still hated me. Probably because I never told you any of that.

We ended up working together those first few summers during college. We hated each other (surprise!). One close friend we shared was our messenger of harsh sentiments. But things changed during the second summer. I had a bad break up before coming home. I cut off my hair and smoked and drank a lot. You were at your angriest towards me for a million reasons. I dated a boy we worked with just to make you jealous. It fucking worked. We were both in a tizzy. My parents went away and I had a party. We drank too much and made out in your car. I was numb that night but the next morning when we were making out in my bed numbness warmed up into love. It was too perfect. Something mutual had jangled loose in both our brains. That was the last good day for a while.

Once you had my heart for real you proceeded to try and make me jealous. So I did the same. It got toxic. I thought about the past too much, hated our progression. I was sad – the whole thing was a dirty trick. We were both so broken. On our last date to a rock show I gave my number to a boy to make you mad and he’s my husband now. We didn’t talk forever. Later you popped in and out of my life to various damaging degrees. Tried to sleep with my roommate. Said you loved me one winter night when I drew a dinosaur on your windshield and we hadn’t talked in ages. Wrote mean songs about me and hid them at the end of a mix tape you sent me. Passed out in the bushes on my wedding night after my family made me invite you.

You have gone through a lot of shit that has nothing to do with me, but are happy now making music and you have an awesome lady. I’m happy too. We’ve finally come around to each other again. We’re friends. Just like we somehow always were, somewhere in all the mess. Every time I tell anyone how I met my husband, I silently apologize to you. Not because I wish I was with you now, but because I willfully hurt you more than anyone ever. And guess what I still love you. But for a change I don’t hate you.

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You are PB&J’s on the river in the summer and cayenne pepper in my hot cocoa in the fall.

You are lightness in my step and tingling in my fingertips.

We haven’t spoken in years, but I think you would make me feel the same now that you did then.

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If I have to be honest, I must admit the first date was awkward, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. It was afterwards that you got me. The hug under the streetlight was cute, but it was the text you sent me minutes later, as I was walking through my door. The “if I knew I was going to get stuck in traffic, I would have walked you home, and given you a proper kiss.” That’s where I melted and knew I was in the most trouble. You texted me for about an hour that night as you were supposed to be doing your fantasy football draft. I felt special and that’s when I started to fall for you. You asked me to come over the next night, “We’ll watch the Sox game and have that kiss” you said. I agreed. I went out after work the next day with my sister and bought new underwear, because I knew you would see it that night. You texted me as I was shopping telling me all you could think about was that first kiss we were going to have, and how you felt in the mood for a really good makeout session.

I remember that night so clearly, what I was wearing and how nervous I was. It was pouring, and I waited for the rain to stop before I went to your apartment. When I got there you gave me a hug and then a really great first kiss. After that you said “hi” and gave me a beer. We sat on the couch and watched about ½ an inning. The Sox quickly got creamed by the Yankees and I quickly lost my top and bra. You were so sweet and gentle that night. I’m sure that you still don’t know that you were my first. That night was a whirlwind of emotions and actions. We had sex four times that night, and it was amazing. I stayed till 12 and then went home because I had to work the next day. You gently kissed me goodbye and I knew then that this was going to be trouble.

We continued this game of randomly hooking up for almost 2 years. Each time I swore I would tell you that I had feelings for you. That this was more than sex for me. ..but I never did. There were times where I was sure you wanted more, but I was too scared. There was the day you told me if you had 4 of me you wouldn’t need a girlfriend or the night you told me to enter your “wedding date” contest. But I never said anything instead we both saw other people, but kept coming back to each other. There are some amazing nights that I remember – New Year’s Eve, the day I got back from my Europe trip, your birthday gift to me, the night this past fall when you had a knee injury. Even know I tear up thinking of it. If I had just said something maybe it would be different. Or had ended it last April when I found out you were in a relationship but still sleeping with me, I wouldn’t be regretting it now. Instead I held on.

Our last get together was a week ago.. I knew that I had stupidly walked back in even though for weeks I denied you that I wanted you. Even when you texted me to tell me you had been thinking about me and you wanted me. I stood firm, we were both seeing other people. Then I stopped seeing D and you said she didn’t know what she wanted and you didn’t know where you stood. So I foolishly fell back into your bed. I went over in my dress and spike heels. I looked around your apartment and thought of the night last February when you first moved in and there was no furniture and you bent me over the kitchen sink, or this past June when we had sex on your patio even though the neighbors were upstairs. I think of all the things I did with you that I would never have done in the past. You were my sexual awakening, and I will never forget you for that. And now it’s too late for more..you’ve moved on, she finally agreed she wants a relationship. And now I am alone and this time

I’ve got to be strong. I can’t stick around and be your friend, we were never friends, there will always be that what if, and I can’t give into it. If you come back I have to say no and mean it. I know you will forever have a piece of my heart whether you know it or not. But this time I can’t, I have to let go and move on. There’s no room for me anymore. “You…Me…and your girlfriend make three….in the interest of even numbers I’ll make myself scarce.”

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i was in love with you when i first laid eyes on you. if there was any skepticism in my 15 year old mind about love at first site, it faded immediately. i met you the summer before my junior year of high school. i asked you to my prom. you couldn’t come because you had plans that night (so then i asked #2). you said i should come to your prom. but you already had a date, so i went to your prom with X. i have never been so bold with a boy as i was with you. i didn’t care because i was so certain of my love for you. i kissed you in the basement of #6’s house. you were on top of me on the mattress on the floor by the door. we were wrestling and you had me pinned down. i reached up and kissed you and you told me “you need to go home now.” later you told me you liked me all along, but you couldn’t kiss me because X had a crush on me. it’s still hard to be rejected, no matter the reason. i had never felt such an intense connection to anyone in my life. anyone who has ever seen us together will comment on the palpable and massive energy between us.

you wrote me the best love letter i have ever gotten. i made you a mix tape. you misquoted james in the letter, asking me how i knew that “sometimes when i look deep into your eyes, i can see your soul.” it still pains me that i can’t find that letter. i am still in love with you, even though i don’t know you anymore.

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