First Love

My first love may have been really an infatuation or obsession but nevertheless here goes my lengthy story.

P went to my high school and man oh man was he hot. Olive-tan skin, that 90s curtain hair style the skater boys had, haunting olive shaped Spanish eyes...and he was SMART and funny. Yet also an bad bit and yet he went to church and had manners. I mean what was not to love? A bad boy you could bring home to impress the parents, who was smart (yeah I'm into brains...not in the zombie way) and beyond hot. Like the hottest guy ever, Johnny Depp's doppelgänger or something.

And in science class, we got assigned seats for the entire year and his was fatefully next to mine. Oh how I swooned and how my heart pitter-pattered. I looked forward to science class every single day. Being science partners, we chatted some- the seating arrangement forced beyond-painfully- shy me to, gasp, communicate. We competed with one another for the best grade in class. We talked about our shared love for Metallica. We had matching skater shoes (even though I am too uncoordinated to skate. Ever.) We even wrote a silly story about the pig we dissected, Lenny. A match made in heaven.

But those who read my post about my first crush ( http://disorderlywanderlustblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/saint-valentine-was-arse.html?m=1 ) will know I had been scarred for life. I just sat there all year, dreaming of what would never happen, him just popping the question (date me, not marry me...although I was guilty of signing my name with his surname in my diary, as every teen girl has ashamed lay done). I mean, how could he not like me? We were like soul mates!

Summer was fast approaching and who knows...I might never see him again. What to do? I tried to hint things, test the waters. My uncle was renting a cabin nearby for the summer and I was excited to spend the summer away from home, going inner-tubing, fishing, creating ruckus. So I asked what his plans were and mentioned mine. Nothing happened an a proverbially kicked myself for the rest of the day.

The next day I psyched myself up as I had back in 4th grade, and this was a critical mission as the last day of school was the following day; sink or swim! So when the other two science partners at our table were discussing pubic hairs or something(they were gross boys) I mumbled something like, hey, have you ever been water skiing? Cause you can come up to my uncle's cabin this summer, I am having a few friends up. (As in me, myself, and I, and occasionally my real life BFF). And he said....

....he said, sure, maybe. I was probably turning blue at that moment, from holding my breath, and I likely said while shaking from nervousness and disbelief, @hey then let's exchange numbers". And we did. And I am sure I was blushing and grinning ear to ear like a big old fool but I was so ecstatic I did not care. I probably danced through the school halls that day.

I eventually got the guts to call him and his mom said he could come for a week! A week! We went and picked him up an he spent the night on the couch at my house because my mom was too tired to drive us to the cabin. He kissed me that night but felt all guilty or something? So my best moment turned into a moment of pensive silence but by the time we got to the cabin, things were better. We hung out with my cousin and watched bad movies and played truth or dare. My cousin who was only 12 was not dumb so he knew I liked P. So he dared P to ask me out and P said he had wanted too anyways. OMG!
We finished the night watching bad movies and all crashed in the same bed but it wasn't, you know, sexual because my cousin was there and plus I was a good girl. But I didn't sleep a wink that night, thinking, OMG my boyfriend is in bed with me. I mean my cousin was in between us but OMG a few feet over was my boyfriend. My first boyfriend. My first kiss.

We had fun making flaming arrows and holding hands and cracking jokes for the week. The next week we chatted on the phone a bit and all was wonderful.

Until the call. One day he calls to say he had been arrested for vandalism or something, and that his mom says he cannot see me again. I said okay, hung up the phone, and fell apart. I cried and hollered for hours.

School started the next week and I saw him in the hall and he ducked away from me, looking at his feet. Granted we broke up but he wouldn't even look my way? So in some sort of masochistic torture, I purposely made sure I walked past him every day after first period. Was it to torture him or myself? I really am not sure but I was not done with him. I was not over him and our relationship lacked proper closure, and now had this "ignore her" mystery. I don't deal well with mystery. I then learned he had history third period and I knew the history teacher well- his wife taught next door to my mom and I had helped his wife in her classroom a lot. Plus he secretly sold candy at passing period to collect money for the team he coached. Who couldn't resist a snickers bar, friendly teacher, and a glimpse at P?

My senior year, supposed to be the best, was punctuated with sorrowful depression, self doubt, hatred. I had finally got the guts to ask a guy out again and it had crashed and burned. With him now actually averting his eyes to my presence, did he ever actually like me? Was it all one big lie, the only guy in all of high school to even note my existence really didn't like me in the first place?
I spent my days penning sad poems and listening to sad songs on repeat. Fade to Black or any song by Stabbing Westward for hours straight. It was a dark time that in retrospect was kind of pathetic, but I didn't know it then. I thought my world was dark and done for, and I wallowed in it.

The story here of first love, infatuation, obsession does not have a proper ending. I graduated that year and he was younger so he was still in school. I never saw him again but my mom ended up being really good friends with his mom (also a teacher) and his aunt (yup a teacher). I ended up going to concerts with his aunt and went swimming at her house where I had missed him by a half an hour! So I got random updates which fueled my pain.

I have forgiven him and forgiven my obsessed crazy self since I was young and dumb and it was 15 years ago, but, you never fully forget your first kiss, boyfriend, love. Even though I could care less about him and the past is passed, the past is still your past and shapes you somehow.