To my first love

Write a letter to your first love…or to your younger self at that time. What did you take away? What do you remember? Are your memories happy, sad…bittersweet? How did you grow? Was your first love even a person?

I often wonder whatever happened to you. It is hard to picture me ever being that young, and honestly when I tell my kids I used to roller skate every weekend they look at me funny. I was 13 headed into 14 that summer. You were the tall skinny guy who never skated but always brought your younger sisters. We were friends, your sisters and I, and the 3 of us would come off the floor, hair dampened with sweat from skating non-stop in the block building with crappy air conditioning to handle the summers of Virginia Beach. They would pull you to the concession stand where you would pay for the inevitable drinks we called suicides because it was a blend of about 5 different soda flavors, we thought we were exotic like that back then.

I don’t know when you and I first talked, really talked aside from conversations you got pulled into with your sisters. But I do remember your youngest sister is the one who told me you thought I was cute. I thought you were crazy, 13 to 14 were so awkward for me. I literally was the only girl in school with real boobs, I skipped training bras completely and went right to a C cup which was followed quickly by a D and by the end of summer even those would be snug. I hated them, for all the right reasons. But you looked at me when you talked to me, in the eyes even, which meant a lot to me. I always picked on you for never getting on skates and joining us and you would say you liked your bones where they were, it took a few weeks for your sisters to spill that you had scoliosis and they were about to do major surgery on your back and it would require you to be in a cast for months. I stopped picking on you then. Before I knew it you asked me out and I was pretty certain my mom would say no, but surprisingly she didn’t. Maybe it was because she met you when you would bring your sisters over, or you were polite when she came to pick me up from hanging out at your house. Who knows but she agreed. Movies first, then to the mall and eventually it was to the beach. All day dates of course but as the days led up to your surgery she released the hold. We hadn’t done anymore than hold hands, not even a peck on the cheek.

You were sweet, and kind and made me feel smart, interesting, funny, and safe. The first night date my curfew was 10 pm, you got me back at 950. Boy did that score brownie points. You were the first person that would kiss me, really kiss me. My first french kiss, with your retainer and all. The first time I had actually held a penis in my hands, or gave a blow job. All the things my mom stopped fearing would occur happened but she never knew. Nor did you drop me once you got those things. You had your surgery and were allowed to drive and return to school in a body cast from your waist all the way up to just over your arms. I was your first stop. But it was also when I realized that you had changed. You were frustrated, and angry. I am sure the cast didn’t help your disposition, plus high school which I was just starting myself. But it hurt and I was crushed. The last night we went out and I said I didn’t want to see you anymore you took the necklace you had given me by jerking it off my neck, leaving pink burns on my flesh and tears glistening in my eyes. Even then I could not tell my mom who you had become. I took responsibility. It was my fault. I broke up with you, I had changed you were still the nice boy she had me marrying in her mind already. I was good at bearing the blame for lots in my life that you never knew, so this was just another on a long list.

I gave my virginity to another in my 9th grade year. It was not gentle as you had been with our other options and I liked it. He was bigger, stronger, and left me breathless. It was the first time I had ever realized that it didn’t always have to be nice and planned and soft. Your hands didn’t feel like his on me when you slid into my pants to feel of me and finger me. You were tentative and tender and while it was nice, it wasn’t this. So I hope you are happy. I hope you had a wonderful life. I thank you for being the gentle when I needed the gentle.

Fond memories and forgiveness for the ending given..

Signed,

Me