Gee, that’s kinda personal…
I was 14 years old, when I was kissed for the very first
time…by John Potter….at a church retreat. Yay, church retreats! Sorry, youth
pastors!
It was your typical, super-sweet kind of kiss that you put
in the back of your memory and cherish for its innocence…but I think that 14 is
way too young to be getting your first kiss (at least, for MY son)!!!
My first love was a summer romance that was also the kind of
thing that you put in the back of your memory, and cherish for its innocence…His
name was Scott, he was a little younger than me, and we met while I was working
in a grocery store during my summer leave from college. He had to finish his
senior year; I had to go away to school…you can see it was doomed from the
start. I broke it off—I was the Mean Girl, and I didn’t handle it well. I have
absolutely nothing negative to say about him or the relationship. It was a
beautiful thing—my mother was appalled, and I didn’t care. His home life was
terrible; mine was stressed. We liked nothing more than the peacefulness of
driving down back roads and blaring the stereo as loud as we could (I blame
Scott for my love of country roads, taking the long way home, and for a pickup
truck). He played guitar (no, I mean, HE PLAYED guitar. This guy played
sessions with BB King. He’s phenomenal), and I have to say that I really and
truly loved him. He actually played Celine Dion songs for me in the car—so, I
have a suspicion that he loved me, too.
But, the separation of college (and the advances of a
particular student) had me wondering if the grass was greener? And in my
foolishness, I sent him a “Dear Scott” letter…(I absolutely did not break it
off with him, because I started something else. “Something else” wouldn’t
interrupt my life for a few more weeks). If I had it all to do over again, I
wouldn’t change a thing about that summer. It was the stuff that country songs
and Disney radio thrive off of. The only thing I would change is how/when/where
I broke it off, because that was stupid. The summer of 1996 is on my list of
favorite summers, and I have very few regrets.
That fall, however? NOTHING but regrets. I think the comparison of that
summer and fall/winter made me value the innocence of the relationship that I had
with Scott, even more.
I ran into his sister a few years after we broke up, and she
was STILL furious with me. I didn’t realize that I’d broken his heart…and that
broke mine, because I’d ruined a wonderful thing. Scott & I reconnected on
Facebook a few years ago, and caught up…but I am married now, to an incredible
guy, so the conversation was handled delicately.
My husband generally doesn’t read my blog; he knows my
story, so I don’t really have a problem writing all of this out there. We were
in our late 20’s when we met, so we both have past relationships and stories.
This is where it counts: Scott may have been my first love, but David is my
TRUE love. He’s the man God meant for me, and I wouldn’t trade him for
anything. However, if David wrote about his true love, I’d be clawing the
computer screen out (‘cause I’m jealous like that). I think that David is
secure enough in our relationship to appreciate the nuances of a summer
romance.
I met my husband in person on May 3rd, 2002, and
our first summer together was an amazing season of learning, experiencing, trial-and-error,
and more. THAT summer was so much more than a “summer romance;” it was a summer
of laying foundations…of breaking off scars and wounds….of healing and hoping,
and of beautiful, exquisite wonder…
So, as I’m writing about that “first love,” just know that although I look back on that
relationship fondly, it’s okay. We should be able to have pleasant memories
with our exes, without our spouse feeling threatened or without people throwing
suspicion or accusations around. It’s a happy memory, from a long time ago…but
it’s just a memory.
When I leave this place tonight, I’m going home to my
present…and it is such a gift! I wouldn’t change a thing.
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