My tragic first love.........................

Maria suggest it would get all of our creative juices flowing to share stories of our first love(s). Not sure how creative the old story will be re-hashed. Some of you might already know the tales about to be shared, and others of you might just get a kick of out reading about it and/or possibly (what I am truly hoping for) be jolted back into a memory or two of your own. That is what Maria did for me and why I decided to share with you all. Thanks Maria!

The story of my first love goes all the way back to 1974, when I was a junior in high school. Like many kids today, our "going out" really amounted to us walking the halls, holding hands between classes. We had one group date, a treasure hunt, and he took me to my junior prom. What an innocent, bliss filled night I remember that to be.

A week or so before school got out for the year I was allowed (No, allowed is no where near a Strong enough word for use with the authority figures I lived with) to go out to the movies with him. Arriving back to my driveway a few minutes before curfew we spent the time doing some exploring kissing (no lower than the neck) and I went in for the night. I might not be today, but back then I was a true innocent. When I went inside I was "inspected" apparently, because my brother-in-law (the father figure in my life at the time) noted that one of my buttons on the back of my blouse was unbuttoned and I had a hickey on my neck that was so small that one either needed to be looking for one or use a magnifying glass to discover it. That man was liable to do both if need be. Having mashed passionately enough to give and receive hickeys since that night I know it was a fluke as barely any suction occurred during our few minutes of making out.

Long story short I was grounded until the end of the school year, and when I went back to school in the fall my first love was dating another girl. By Christmas vacation senior year they were pregnant and he and I never talked about our brief relationship, or the connection that was established between us.

Fast forward to our five year class reunion. I went over to say hi and ask to see his kids pictures (He had three by this time. That's a lot of responsibility). As he showed me the snap shot he remarked, "They were suppose to be yours you know?" Even if one happens to want to agree with him, what does a girl say to that kind of thing? I honestly can't remember if I said anything at all. I know I was flattered, and I also knew that there was stuff that we still needed to hash over. A few minutes later I went back to my friends and went home that evening with my husband and conceived my second child.

Ten year class reunion this time. I had grown up enough that I decided it was time to put an ending to our relationship. I was also divorced. Did I want the guy back, now that I was single? Not a chance. I just wanted to put some kind of closure on what we did share because, at the time, that was the way I functioned. Control was really important to me and unfinished business (even perceived unfinished business) got in the way of that control.

I will admit that I looked pretty darn hot that night. I had on this dress that had fringe all of the way down it (like a roaring twenties flapper dress) and EVERYONE was talking about it. Regardless of how I looked I behaved like a perfect lady. We shared one dance in which I ask him if we might get together sometime and talk about the ending of our relationship. He had had a little to drink and told me that he didn't trust himself to be alone with me. I told him that was ridiculous I trusted me enough for the both of us. He then shared that he had had an affair and refused to put himself in that situation again. Since he continued to have feelings for me he would be tempted. Enough said. The song ended, he went outside and I never saw him again.

He didn't attend our fifteen year class reunion and for some reason I have been dropped from the guest list ever since then.

All these years later, I know that the very fact that we have led separate lives is plenty of closure. I no longer feel the need to talk things over with him. He was important, I wish him well, and occasionally pray that he is at peace and happy.

Still, if he called he up and invited me to have coffee I'd do it in a heart beat.

Difference is now, I am not holding my breath at the thought.

I consider that progress.