Today’s writing challenge topic is actually something I covered, in part, a few days ago. Today though requires a little bit of expansion on that previous post, and requires me to delve into dusty but sweet memories.
Day 3: Your First Love and Your First Kiss
Young love. It’s a beautiful and magical thing. Feeling your heart race at the sight of the cute boy at school. Hoping he’ll notice you. Hoping he’ll ask you to the school dance. You have no fear of the future or the relationship because you have never experienced the pain of a broken heart. A first love is like the magical first days of Spring when everything is warm, colorful, full of life, and full of possibility.
I met Bill in the Spring.
I was 13 years old, in 7th grade, and the new student in school. It was April, 1990. My best friend, Molly, was going out with a boy named Bill. I had been hearing about him for months, and he seemed nice enough when I finally got to meet him on my first day at Kirby Junior High School. I quickly developed a quiet little crush.
He and I did not get along though.
Bill was blonde, had beautiful blue eyes, was a good boy, and was smart. He was the kind of boy all parents love.
It took several months for he and I to become friends. By then he and and Molly had broken up in typical fleeting teenage relationship fashion. We got to where we talked on the phone everyday after school. We wrote notes to each other. I fell in love as much as a 13 year old girl is capable of. All of our friends knew I liked him, and suspected that he liked me as well.
In February, 1991 glitter rained down on my world, angels sang, clouds parted, and the most monumental event in my entire 14 years old life happened. Bill asked me out! We were dating! It was official. He and I were TOGETHER! I was sure that nothing would ever top that moment. I was also absolutely positive that Bill and I would be together forever.
Our relationship was filled with teenage drama. His parents didn’t really like me. They tolerated me for a short while, but eventually made him break up with me. We got back together, broke up again, got back together again, and broke up again. All of that took place over 6 months. Finally his parents begrudgingly let Bill and I remain friends.
During those 6 months we were as cute as any teenage couple could be. We held hands in the halls at school, kissed between classes, wrote notes to each other all the time, talked on the phone all the time. He was the first boy I slowed danced with. It was during the Valentine’s Day dance in the school gym. Romantic!
A few weeks after he and I started going out (the first time) I threw a surprise birthday party for a friend. All of our friends were there. There was music, laughing, and everybody had a fun time. As any teenage party will do, it eventually calmed down. Music was still on, but lights got turned down. People found comfy lounging spots on couches and the floor, and we sat around talking and giggling. At one point somebody said something to got me very embarrassed. I got up and ran out of the room and hid in another. Bill came to find me. We stood in that dark room, alone, talking for a couple of minutes, and then he leaned toward me. Before I even had time to think he kissed me. It wasn’t a little peck on the cheek or anything. It was a kiss. A real kiss. The kind of kiss that you never forget, ever. It was sweet, beautiful, tender, and loving. It was amazing. It was perfect, the most perfect kiss I’ve ever had in all my life.
When it was over I was speechless, which never happens to this chatterbox.
That night was the first time I said “I love you” to Bill.
We stayed friends throughout high school. We even went to the Homecoming dance together our Sophomore year. We continued to write notes to each other, and to talk on the phone. We talked about what we each wanted to do with our respective futures. He wanted to be an engineer. I wanted to be a writer. He had such faith in my writing that he was positive that I was going to famous for it someday.
He went on to date other girls, and I went on to date other boys. But for me, nobody compared to the first boy I loved, the first boy I kissed. Nobody compared to the boy with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes that I fell in love with when I was 13 years old. Nobody compared to Bill.
Until next time . . .