First chapter of first love story

I love you....three simple words. I find it amusing that these words, when paired together, could ever be called simple. I have learned that these “simple” words have the ability to cause some of the most extreme emotional feelings. In my experience, they have created confusion, great joy, and, worst of all, extreme heart breaking pain. I was lucky though. I had the pleasure of experiencing all of these thrilling emotions with just one boy. Some would call this a story about my first love or the one who got away. It has taken me ten years, but I finally believe I was fortunate that he did get away….





                                                      



         I can still remember the first day I saw him. I was just thirteen years old and in seventh grade. The whole school had to go to an assembly. My friends and I were sitting in our school’s large auditorium and we heard talk, amongst others in my grade, that a new student had appeared. At the time I was currently dating someone, but when you are a thirteen year old girl dating has a much different meaning then when you are in your twenties. Dating was calling the opposite sex your boyfriend and engaging in random activities outside of school. Things such as hanging out at ones house, movies, mall, etc. All of these usually included other friends tagging along. Alone time was rare and strangely forbidden. I miss those days of carefree fun with a boy. You think that every relationship would last forever, which usually meant about two weeks. So I had a boyfriend, who I did really like and things were going well in this early teen romance. I never thought about wanting to date anyone else because this current guy was “perfect”. He was tall, dark haired, brown eyes, smart and yet had that whole sexy rebellious thing. What young girl didn’t love those wonderful qualifications?

         Well my friends continued on talking about this new kid and eventually one pointed him out to me since he was conveniently close to where we just happened to be sitting. Since we were in an auditorium the rows of seats were on an incline so I could easily see anyone who was a few rows behind me. I turned to look at him and that moment was the beginning of my descent into an unknown and rare darkness. The moment I saw him I felt something different. I could see that he had dark brown hair, but more importantly I could see his eyes. The moment I saw those vivid, light blue eyes I fell in love. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t heard his voice or knew a thing about him. The only thing I could think was that I wanted to be with him. This damn thought would stay with me for many years and it became more and more aggravating as time went on.

         After the assembly ended, I couldn’t even tell you what it was about thanks to daydreaming about what I had just seen, the rest of my school day went along normally. Then when I got onto the bus, at the end of the day, I got a surprise. There he was, on my school bus. Yes mine! Fate works in mysterious ways. He, sadly, got off the bus many stops before I did, but still I couldn’t believe my luck. He was actually one of the first to get off so he didn’t even live near me. Come to think of it, it was strange for him to be on my bus so maybe this whole experience should be blamed on fate. Anyways, over the next few days I got the nerve to ask him if he wanted to be my boyfriend. Yes, I still technically had the other one, but that’s the advantage of being a young girl in her youth. You can change your mind about puppy love frequently and the sad thing is it makes you normal. I used the grapevine approach and had others find out if he liked me before I just blurted out date me one day. I have a feeling this most likely would have frightened him off. Especially since I had yet to have spoken to him, but I figured if I noticed him maybe there was a small chance that he noticed me too. One night, on the bus, I got my answer. No, he didn’t like me and on top of that he had a girlfriend. I was slightly crushed, but I still had rebel boy so I wasn’t alone. I shook it off and figured it just wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t really have any reason to be insulted for him not liking me since we never really spoke to each other. I hadn’t forget those intense feelings I had that first day I had seen him, but if he didn’t like me I knew there really wasn’t much I could do about it. For me, this was love at first sight. More then anything I wanted him to feel the same way that I did. It just wasn’t working out that way for me. Almost nothing works at the way you want it to when you are a teenager. Actually, I’ve come to learn even as you get older things pretty much turn out the same way, especially when it comes to love. Damn strong emotion that seems to never go away. Well I went about normal teenage girl life and tried my hardest to just erase that first day from my mind. Obviously, you can see how well that worked out for me. 

         The next month me and rebel boy broke up. We did this from time to time. Break up, date, break up, date, and etc. Well this time was slightly different since he had gone off on a morning band field trip dating me and came back to school later that day dating my friend. Doesn’t that sound interesting? Now that I am older I can recognize this as the doings of karma. Eventually, I got over this and finished out the school year. I still hadn’t really spoken to my blue eyed wonder, but I definitely learned to appreciate the view on my bus, even if it was only for about ten minutes a day. Summer came and went without anything interesting happening in, what I hesitate to call, my love life. Eighth grade approached and with it came back my blue eyed fascination.

         He was still on my bus in eighth grade, which I still find odd, but I got a bonus this year. We had a class together that happened to switch every few weeks. It had the random, most children wouldn’t use in every day adult life, subjects. Things such as art, sewing, wood shop, etc. Wood shop was by far the worst. Cute blue eyed boy or not I would have gladly given that one up. We also had Spanish together. At first, I didn’t really pay as much attention to him since nothing promising had happened during the previous grade. Then he started to, sort of, talk to me. For some reason, which I found out later to be because of the friends he made; he would call me a slut, whore, and just about any name that went along with those. I couldn’t figure out what had brought on this assault of insults. Yes, I had a few boyfriends prior to this year, but I hadn’t done anything that would bring upon all those names. I was also guilty of wearing low cut tops, but I was a heavier girl. I, stupidly, believed that my chest was the only part of my body that was worth showing off. Plus this new array of insults didn’t help much to improve my self esteem. Looking back now I don’t think I was ever really happy with how I looked. I spent most of middle school changing everything about myself. Well everything except my weight, which was the one thing about me that I hated most. Turns out I wasn’t the only one, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I would pretend the insults didn’t bother me and would try to laugh along with him. As much as I hate to admit it those insults still didn’t stop me from liking him. They hurt, but, as sick as it may sound, at least he was paying attention to me.

         As the year progressed, it came time for our class to switch to sewing class. The room had a very strange set up. When you walked inside the classroom there was one sewing machine to your left, beside a wall of cupboard doors. To the left of the door was open space and the teacher’s desk  Right in front of the lonely sewing machine was a table that had two sewing machines on one side and another on the other side. The rest of the sewing machines were on their own desks and they formed the letter U around the room, leaving a gap in the middle to walk through. Well two of my friends and I were put at the table that had the three sewing machines and there was another classmate in that lonely sewing machine next to the door. This machine was directly behind me because I was sitting at the far left of the table of three.

         About halfway through the sewing weeks the classmate behind me was taken out of our class. There were two students sharing one sewing machine because we didn’t have enough, due to the size of the class. So the teacher moved one of them to the now free machine and who else would it be, but my blue eyed criticizer. Here it is again. Fate working in my favor, well what I think is my favor. I suppose this time it was slightly helpful since he started talking to me more then he insulted me. The insults were still there, but I learned to take them more in a joking manor. I started to see a nicer side to him, dare I even say a gentle side. He could always make me laugh, which was a big plus for me. Still is. Sewing had easily become my favorite class to go to. I dreaded the day when it would end because I feared this small friendship I had acquired would go away just as quickly as it came. Having him as even the smallest part of my world made school life just a little more exciting and enjoyable. That was the whole point of middle school anyways wasn’t it? Form close friendships, notice boys, and of course try to do some academics somewhere in the middle of the first two. I think this logic was how they came up with the term “middle” school. Eventually, sewing did come to an end and with it my small friendship. It seemed to be out of sight out of mind. He is the only boy I have ever known to take this saying and make it into an art form.

           For a while I was starting to think I just cultivated this so called friendship in my head. He barely spoke to me in any of the classes we had after sewing ended. It crossed my mind many times that perhaps I was just insane and I only imagined he spoke to me like a human being. Eventually, he did start to speak to me a little more in Spanish class and also on the bus. Then one day he did something that I honestly thought I did imagine, except I had proof that it really happened.

         It was the end of the school day and we were on the bus. My friend and I sat together every day she actually rode the bus. Well he was sitting behind us and was idly chatting with us. He had started talking to my friend and me more frequently on the bus rides home. Then as he was getting off the bus he handed me a piece of paper and told me to call him later that night. I couldn’t believe he had actually given me his phone number. Either I had really lost it or he clearly did? My friend was never the encouraging type of girlfriend and told me that I shouldn’t get so excited. Glaring at people had become something I had made into an art form and that’s exactly the type of look she got from me when she said this. All I could think, on the ride home, was what could he possibly want to say to me?

         After I got home I went in to my room and stared at my blue cordless phone for what seemed like hours. My hand was shaking when I finally picked it up to dial the number. As the phone rang, I could hear my heart pound in my ear drums and I became short of breath. This always happens when I get really nervous. I blame the shy part of me for the extreme fear I was feeling. I heard a woman’s voice on the other line. I timidly asked if I could speak with my daring blue eyed friend. She told me to hold on a moment and then I heard his voice. His voice was and still is the sexiest feature he ever had. It was a deep seductive sound and always seemed to have a slight hint of humor to it. I believe this was the start of my slight voice fetish that I still have. The only thing I could think to say when he said hello in that delicious tone of his was “you told me to call.” I was afraid he had forgotten that he wanted me to or that he would somehow magically think I am a stalker who tracked down his phone number. I have an overactive imagination I’m afraid. He just said yeah I know I did and started talking about random school and friend stuff. It turned out that my cynical friend was correct this time. I did get worked up for nothing because all he wanted was a friend. After this first phone call I had tried calling him a few other random times and he was either not there or stayed on the phone for what could hardly be categorized as a minute. I learned my lesson after these fun encounters and would only call if he asked me too and he never wanted my number. Eighth grade came to an end and high school was only three short months away. If only summer could last longer. I wish I had enough intelligence to just have walked away from this after this point, but no. I suppose I had to have something to make high school remarkable and slightly more excruciating then it already was.