Sometimes I write about my first “love of my life”. I was little back then. 15 years old. He moved to D.C. from Seattle where he grew up. He was the gothiest boy I had ever met. Three years older than me, I have no idea how my parents ever trusted us. But, they did. And when I look back we were pretty much as good as gold.
We met at a concert of The Cure in D.C. My friend’s dad drove us since we weren’t old enough to drive. He ran out of gas and we had to coast down a hill. I’ll always remember that and how he waited in the car reading a book.
I sat in my friend’s seat accidentally. Really, we bought tickets together but I sat in the seat of her ticket number and for years she reminded me of that because I sat by him… the future “love of my life.”
My hair, that at the time was halfway down my back, was up in a hat. I always remember how he liked me before seeing my hair. Boys and long hair…sigh. We laughed during the concert. It’s a memory of a memory now but he wrote my name and address on his arm in eyeliner when the ink in the pen ran out. He said, "Now I'll never wash my arm."
|Prom 1992... his hair actually matched my purple dress|
Within a week, I received my first letter from him. Those letters back and forth would continue for three years. There were visits, prom, birthday murder mysteries… and graduation when he made a hard choice.
He never had the chance to go to college. A poor boy from a poor family that was somewhat abusive… he talked about rain hitting the tin roof of his family’s trailer. He wanted me to have what he could not. I did; I have had everything I’ve ever wanted within reason. He broke up with me for no reason and I went on to college.
For years he called my mother to check in on me. I didn't know any of this until 2006 when we reconnected. My mother never said a thing.
Yet, life changes and people grow up and make hard decisions. He made a hard decision to let me grow into me. I fumbled and messed it up. Only in a bad marriage was I able to find him again and reach out to a man who found happiness and even a child.
I’m not exactly pining. I’m remembering happy memories and I’ve shared these with my fella, my current real-life love of my life.
Through the years, I’ve become Facebook friends with my first fella’s wife. We laugh that we're the same person since we're so similar. But, I watch his kid grow. I read the stories of their life. I never for a moment wish it had been me. We’re happy now in separate places with different people… all is right in the world.
But today, I read his wife’s Facebook post that he got hurt. He’s okay. But he got hurt doing an activity that he always wanted to do when we were kids. 1989 to 2015. 26 years… but it’s never too late to do what you love and maybe get hurt doing it.
Tonight I’ve had a little wine and soon I have to go to bed so that I can function in our present year. But for a moment, I wanted to think back to being little and loving someone who was so good and precious. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can hear him. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can remember being 15.
Speedy recovery, old friend.