(Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m in a schmoopy mood tonight. Shaddup. :p)
Well?
my highschool sweetheart Scott
we dated for 7 months, and I broke the poor guys heart.
I was 19, I was in love with my then-girlfriend. She broke up with me 3-odd years later.
I was 37, and she’s been my wife for 7 1/2 years.
Nobody had ever loved me back before, so any feelings I may have had in the past were hormonal imbalances or delusions or the bubonic plague or something. It was right out of that Blind Melon Chitlin song, “Only My Mama Loves Me But She Could Be Jivin’ Too.”
I don’t think I really have fallen in “love” yet, but I have come close. I’m young though, so maybe it will happen for me.
I was 17; he was 19 and went away to school. Devastatingly gorgeous, six feet tall, black hair, piercing green eyes, and that pouty/wounded demeanor that always sucked me in at the time. I wrote him hand-written letters religiously every week. He was slightly less diligent about writing me back, but upon his return we began dating. Thus began a whirlwind courtship, but the odd part was we never really were that close. It was almost as if he saw me as an ethereal and curious oddity unworthy of his affections, and sooner or later, he began sleeping with his best friend (an ignorant, loud-mouthed hussy as far as I am concerned…and this was my opinion before he was sleeping with her!). Rather than confront him, I let it happen and eventually he broke up with me once I moved to another city to go to school.
He still contacts me and apologizes to this day, but frankly, I don’t care. I refuse to make that mistake ever again, either with him or another emotionally wounded type.
Gross.
I first truly fell in love with my husband. Five years of dating, one year of living together, eleven years of marriage and I’m still madly in love with him.
He’s my lover, the father of my child, my favorite writer, the person who does the laundry, the man who takes my side when my mother’s being mean, the person who bakes me cookies when I’m in the mood to break my diet, the guy who listens to me rant about politics (and even joins in sometimes), the tall, handsome, charming, blue eyed, wavy brown haired guy with his hand gently on my shoulder when we’re driving and a spare pun in his pocket.
Above all he’s always, always my very, very best friend.
I was 14. His name was Sean. He had brown hair and the most devastatingly blue eyes. He was the first boy to like me back and it was a crazy 2 month relationship (it was high school, what do you expect?). Even though it didn’t last long, it deeply affected me. He was the first boy to totally turn me to mush and man was it a wonderful feeling. I still think about him every now and then, 8 years later.
Kristi Kimball, Fresno California. We were at a summer church camp near yosemite and i was the scandalous preacher’s kid that went through barbituate withdrawls at age 16.
She was a good bud for quite a while and really healped me over that first 6 months although we lived about 5 hours away from each other and no way to see each other. We kept in touch for about 5 years.
First grade, Hayward, Ca. Michael Perry. I remember quite clearly crying a river when he wasn’t included in my second grade class. We had a lot of fun playing “kiss you if I catch you” on the playground. 
I had a huge crush on a guy named Steve from about grade 4 to grade 8.
He hated my guts. But it was no loss. The guy grew up to be a snaggletoothed dunce anyhow. 
Age 15. 1973. With my wife.
Hey, the 32nd anniversary of our 1st date is coming up quick! Better get flowers.
We met when we were 16. At 17 we began to develop more-then-friends feelings. A few days after my 18th birthday I finally agreed to start dating. Within a few weeks I realised it was already love. But I didn’t say anything to him because I didn’t want to freak him out. I need not have worried. 3 weeks after we began dating he declared his love, in the same place where we decided to start dating. It’s not as romantic as it sounds, we were in the pub.
1 year and 9 months after we began dating he proposed. It wasn’t completely unexpected. (Having picked out the ring myself.)
I get to marry my first and only love. Yay! Well, just as soon as we finish university, and stop doing the long distance thing, and get jobs so we have money…
Good deal!
I can relate one decade later…
Age 15. 1983 With my wife.
6th grade. Mike Mlinarcik–he of the ice blue eyes, black curly hair and incipient moustache. He was tall and quiet–I fell like a stone.
I loved him from afar all thru our after school bowling league. I met him again in HS and we became friendly. We never dated, but there was always a tiny piece of my heart reserved for Mike.
He died about 6 years ago d/t strange and sad circumstances which I will not relate here.
Mike…
As I get older (and hopefully wiser), I am beginning to see that the old analogy of love=fire is quite true.
There’s the fire that blazes up brightly when first lit, but quickly runs out of fuel and dies with just a few sparks remaining. Almost all the women in my life fit that classification: it was hot and heavy when it was going on, but now it’s over with (mostly) happy memories and fond friendship remaining.
And then there’s the fire that blazes up, then banks down to a steady glow. It flares up now and again, but it never burns out and it warms the heart(h) and home. That’s where I am now with SWMBO.
I was 23, she was 25. She was beautiful, intelligent, sweet and caring and a little quirky. I met her through the environmental group I was and am in.
I asked her out on a date after giving her a ride home from the Clearwater Revival. Thankfully she accepted. It only took a few weeks for me to realize I loved her and I asked her to marry me about 2 months after we started dating. I then asked her for the next month as she wasn’t sure. She has been my wife for 13 years now. She is still beautiful, intelligent, sweet and caring and a little quirky.
Romantic love - 5 years ago. My husband.
But my first experience with unconditional love came with my first born son, 18 years ago.
Ruling out crushes, infatuations, unbridled lust, and other things that pose as love: never.
Well, I carried a torch for SpouseO when I was 15, he 14, but I didn’t really act on it until over a year later - asked him out on my 17th birthday. That was 12 years ago; we’ve been married for five.
A girl named Ashley when I was 17. I used to think about driving the car into a tractor trailer so we could freeze in time.
We actually stayed together a long time even though we went to different schools. I bet we could have made it work if we met at an older age.
Regardless, my wife is better. But, there’s still something nostalgic about that high school thing.