Friday, 13 January 2006

The first cut is the deepest

I was just chatting to my German friend (the sensible one) who is debating what to do about this guy she has a crush on but only sees twice a year when she visits her brother.

J and I are getting along so well at the moment that there's no obsessing to do.

So I will digress slightly and share the story of the first man who took so long to decide I was right for him, that when he did, I was no longer available.

He wasn't the first man I slept with, but he was the first one I slept with that I loved.

I'll try to make it short. However, knowing me it probably won't be, so I've made it into a mini-novel for the sake of readability. Click the headings to read.

Conveniently, the headings also sum the story up if you can't be bothered but kind of would like to know.

My first love

Chapter 1 - Just friends (Yes, I really thought that was possible, even with a man who made my legs buckle just by sitting across from me at a chess board -I was 17 and a virgin for God's sake)

Chapter 2 - You can run, but you can't really (We never got it together. I said once that I'd come back for him when I was 27, but I haven't.)

It is strange how the 'firsts' make such a deep impact.

My first crush

The first boy I was ever in love with coincidentally had the same name as the guy in the mini-novel above. I was six, he was ten.

We met on holiday. He carried me around on his back for a whole week; I think as an eldest child I just relished the attention. I cried my eyes out when we had to leave.

Our parents exchanged addresses, but both parties lost the note in the mess that is travel. When I was 14, we met them again by coincidence, it was the first year my crush had stayed at home instead of coming along. But his kid brother had grown up to be a hottie! Sometimes I still wonder what he's like now.

My first boyfriend

The first boyfriend I had was a rebound from the above-mentioned. We met in pre-school, and by a stroke of luck also ended up in the same group in primary school.

We were together for a whopping six months at the age of ten, although the union consisted of hanging out playing board games (they had the same carpet in their house as we did I remember) and occasionally holding hands.

After the summer he dumped me for a 14 (!!) year old girl. Who was I to compete? Women loved him, they always have.

When I was 14, the same boy gave me my first proper kiss.

Always when we run into each other, we buy each other drinks (this is inevitably in a bar in our home town), and he still looks very handsome, although I haven't seen him for a few years now.

When I was 15 I started going out with a boy who is still one of my best friends; his parents are still hoping we'll get married. It wouldn't be a bad option; he's got what it takes but I think being with him is too challenging as he can go for days on end without speaking.

And then I met the first man I ever loved. Nobody between him and J really made an impact. Although I did love some of them, even most of them (Gay Ex always used to say I loved too many people too much), they never felt like home.

Gay Ex, for instance, I was mad about him and he read my mind, but we both knew it was temporary for obvious reasons.

And without the illusion of forever, I don't think a relationship can ever last, or a love feel like home.

Sometimes, although a lot less often than I used to, I still wonder what my life would be like if I was with the first man who made me feel incomplete without him.

Maybe I'd just be bored with him, because clearly someone stays a lot more interesting if you never really have to live with them.

But a small part of me still lives in that parallell universe where I'm his girlfriend and his son is my child.

1 comment:

  1. I suspect we all have those parallel universes. Like Sliding Doors.

    That was a long post, but I love reading you so much it didn't seem to matter.


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