First Love Feelings...!
Do you ever totally forget your first love?
(This excludes of course those who go through a divorce with said
person! Then they remain unforgettable in a truly different fashion!)
The
reason first love stories are so compelling to read is because there is
something so powerful about a young love experience. Is it because it
happens when our hearts are still innocent and pure -- before that first
inevitable heartbreak? Or is it because once that huge flame dies out, a
few warm embers remain to keep the memory aglow?
It's true, too,
that we tend to get even more sentimental as we age, especially about
memories of long ago. An unfinished love keeps some allure for many
years.
Whatever keeps those tender feelings in play, some long to
have that feeling again as evidenced by those who go in search of that
first love. With social media around now, it is not difficult to do.
Each
time I wrote of a love story, my own first love came to mind. Although
we did not end up together, we are still in touch as friends. It is the
kind of sentimental friendship you would feel for a best friend from way
back when. So many shared experiences make for great fun in
reminiscing.
The only thing truly unique about my own story is
that I found a soul mate so young -- a romanticist like me and a
renaissance man, in the middle of a large urban high school in a working
class neighborhood.
Here then is my own story.
When I was a
teen, I was a romanticist and a dreamer, longing for someone to cherish
me. Money was scarce too and I was surrounded by girls whose families
spoiled them with everything money could buy in the '60s and early '70s.
When I was in eighth grade, I saw the Franco Zeffirelli movie "Romeo & Juliet" with
Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey at least five times -- I paid for it
myself! A believer in fairy tales with an irrepressible optimism despite
my gloomy circumstances, I knew I was destined for a great and powerful
love such as the one I saw on that big screen over and over again. Oh
yes, I was a dreamer.
Sometimes dreams come true. I met my prince
when I was just 15 years old. In the massive universe of our urban high
school, we somehow connected. He was tall (6-foot to my own 5-foot-7)
and handsome, funny, smart, and talented. He was shy and old-fashioned
in the way he wooed me, beginning with asking me for a date on a
postcard where I had to check yes or no in an answer box. He was a grade
older and it took a bit of flirting to get his interest. Once I did
though, in short order, we fell deeply in love, and in our young hearts
and minds we felt we were destined to be written into the great annals
of love history like Romeo & Juliet, minus the tragedy.
His
white horse was a brand new light blue Pontiac Firebird, and he swooped
me off to great adventures on a weekly, and then daily basis in my
teenage years. I was with him when I experienced my first of many rock
concerts, and saw my first Broadway show. Other firsts for me were
experiencing elegant dining, being brought gifts and flowers, and being
made to feel like a princess for the first time in my life. We were from
different socioeconomic circumstances, and he could afford to spoil me.
Aside
from the great fun, the hours of time spent on our mutual love of
certain music and slapstick comedy, and the excessive amount of laughter
we shared, we nurtured each other's talents and dreams at a very
vulnerable and impressionable time in life. In fact, I was the first to
passionately believe in his talent and knew he would become something
great.
He expressed his feelings in almost daily love letters and
the writing was right out of a romance novel. Both of us have become
writers and he has become well-respected in Hollywood in his field. We
share a mutual pride in each other's talents and accomplishments.
I
saved his letters in an old box all these years because I just knew he
would be famous some day. See the excerpt from one of his actual letters
below:
Mostly
though, and I apologize to feminists and the like, but please read on
for why: I gained self-confidence when I desperately needed some from
someone close to my age. It is sad to say I got it from a romantic
relationship, but his opinion of my talent, my intelligence, and my
future was just the boost I needed having grown up an awkward-looking,
nerdy kid who got teased a lot. He was the very first to bring about my
understanding of my own value as a person.
With our immaturity,
our young love wasn't picture perfect. There was jealousy, anger, and
hurt along the way. The relationship became volatile with many
intoxicating highs, and conversely, devastating lows. A combination of
parental pressures and other life forces and ambitions finally broke us
up, but somehow we managed to remain friends all throughout these many
years despite living many miles apart. My children know this great guy
as an honorary "uncle" who always bestowed wonderful treats on them.
The
memories I described here stay with me in the most positive and healthy
way, because I truly believe they helped form the person I am today. My
mature heart, knowing full well where my love priorities are, never
felt the urge to run off with him as an adult. Yet, I feel compelled to
tenderly keep him among my most treasured friends.
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