My first real love? Or my first childish love? Which do I write about?
For a long time, I didn’t know what love was because of my past. Face it, I didn’t know a lot of things because of my past. I had to learn them on my own. I would like to think that my first love was Daryl Posey, but he wasn’t really. I thought he was, he was a great time. He was there when I needed him. But then I learned a lesson, thanks to my egg donor, that he really wasn’t there for me.
See, I can’t tell you about the first time I kissed Daryl, the first time we went out, the first time we had sex or any of that, but I can tell you how I felt around him. I felt great, I felt like someone finally cared about me. Someone wanted to spend time with me, to talk to me, to hold my hand, to be seen with me. And yes, have sex with me. But I can tell you about the last time I saw him and how it crushed me.
The last time I saw Daryl and his amazing green eyes was at my egg donor’s house. She had this bright idea for me to find out if he really loved me. Now, I was only 16 at the time. As my “mother” she shouldn’t have been trying to find my “true love” and my future husband, she should have been worried about my grades in school, or better yet, getting me BACK in school, discussing college with me and helping me figure out how to grow to be an adult. Not trying to marry me off. But no, I thought Daryl and I were madly in love, he was discussing going off to college and what was going to happen to us then. Then my “mother” came up with this “brilliant” plan to see if he was really in love with me. Her plan was to tell him I was pregnant and see how he reacted. She said “If he loves you, he’ll marry you and then you can either get pregnant or fake a miscarriage. If he doesn’t really love you, then he’ll break up with you.” Well, I think you can guess how THAT worked out, since I’ve already said that the last time I saw him it crushed me. You would be right, he told me that he didn’t want to be married, he didn’t want a child, and that since we used protection every time we had sex, it couldn’t be his. (Back then I couldn’t spout off that condoms are only effective 98% of the time. ) He yelled, I yelled, he punched a wall, I cried, he cried and then he got in his muscle car and drove out of my life. I never saw him again.
That was what I *thought* was my first love.
For my first kiss, I have to refer to my first kiss that meant something to me. The first real grown-up kiss that I remember. And for that, I’m simply going to pull the passage from my book “Scorned”. To set the scene, Jesse and I were on our first real date, we had gone out to dinner.
“We sat there eating and talking until it was almost time for them to close. Jesse paid the bill and we left. He looked at his watch and realized how late it was getting. He said that he had planned on us going to the movies but obviously we couldn’t stop talking and missed it. He wanted to know if it was okay if we went back to my place for a while to just hang out and chat some more. I was more than happy to spend more time getting to know him. Again, he held the car door open for me and I slid on over to the middle and waiting for him to get in. This time he put his arm around me as we drove back. When we pulled up in front of my place, instead of sliding back over to my side, I slid out his side. Just little things like that made it seemed like we had always been a part of each other’s lives. He took my hand and we walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Instead of going in, though, we sat on the swing and talked some more. At one point, he wrapped his arms around me, used one hand and lifted my face to look into my eyes. He told me that he could tell that there had been a lot of sadness and fear in my life, more than I was telling him and that I never had to fear him. He said that he would never lay a hand on me to hurt me, ever. And with that, he leaned in and kissed me on the mouth.
I melted. I thought everything I had read in Patricia’s romance novels was phony. But I saw fireworks. I heard them too. I’m sure if we were standing my foot would have popped up like you see in the movies. The feel of his lips on mine was like nothing I had ever felt before. I swear that every bone in my body had turned to jelly and I was going to slide right off the porch swing. My heart was beating so fast that I thought it was going to beat out of my chest. There was no tongue involved. It was just a simple lip-to-lip kiss and it set me on fire. When the kiss was over I melted into his chest and could hear his heart beating, I swear it was beating as fast as mine was beating. His breathing was certainly as fast as mine. We sat there for a while, my head on his chest, him with one arm wrapped tightly around me, the other hand stroking my hair. The whole time he was whispering something in French. It was one of the most innocent yet romantic nights I had ever experienced. After a while he shifted and kissed me again, I had the same intense reaction. It was so new to me I didn’t quite understand it, but I knew I wanted to keep feeling it because it was so enjoyable. When the kiss ended he said that he needed to get his mom’s car home because it was late and he had to work tomorrow.”
And to be completely honest….Jesse was my first real love. As a grown up, looking back on my life, I know that now. We had a love story that lasted until he died. And there was not a phone call or a meeting that didn’t end with the words “I love you” even when we were in relationships with other people. As I once put it, we had seniority in each other’s lives.