Sophomore year of college, he was a freshman. We went out for 6-7 months, something like that. My first serious relationship, and the first guy I slept with while completely sober (I’d lost my virginity before him, but had only “done it” once and was pretty drunk at the time). I wound up breaking up with him because I couldn’t take his insecurity and mood swings, but it broke my heart, too – I actually went a little nuts (figuratively), it was my first breakup and I didn’t know what to do with myself and I kept wanting to talk to him about it. He was eventually mean enough to me that I stopped speaking to him. That was 15 years ago (!).
At the time I thought he was being immature, but after a few years – and another breakup or two – I was able to realize that it was me who was immature, and that he was just hurt and angry and annoyed that I wouldn’t make a clean break. (He did wind up turning into kind of a jerk whenever I was around, even after we’d both moved on, but that sort of thing is why I broke up with him in the first place.)
By the time I was able to regret how things ended, we were both out of school and he’d moved to the midwest somewhere. If I were to ever see him again and he seemed willing to talk I’d apologize, but I’d never go out of my way to track him down or anything.
I was 16, she was 15. I fell head over heels for her. We date, she didn’t want to date, she broke up with me.
Months pass. The only time I hear from her is a funny card on Valentine’s Day.
More time passes. By now I’m 18, she’s 17. We get back together. It’s glorious. I write poetry for her. She gives me handmade gifts. Tragically, she breaks up with me again a few months later.
Months after that she confesses the only reason she dated me either time was to make another guy jealous.
I was 18, he was 23 and his name was Steve. I was studying for my A Levels, he was a friend of my best friend’s boyfriend. He was 6’4", with a shaved head, Clark Gable-esque smile and the bluest eyes. I can still remember the moment he told me he loved me - it was a beautiful spring day and we sitting on the grass outside my college refectory and he turned to me and said: “Um, yeah - I love you.”
I broke up with him about a year later - by then I was away at uni and I’d met someone else. He walked me home and we said goodbye, and then I watched him walk backwards up my street away from me, tears streaming down our faces, and I didn’t realise till years later that if it hurt that much to watch him walk away, I should never have let him.
What can I say, I was young and naive - I thought the world was full of gorgeous, clever, witty men who understood me completely and still adored me. It took 7 years and several relationships before I found someone I could love and be loved by again.
Gah. This topic has brought out my schmaltzy side, apparently. Sorry!
Looking back, I count three times really being in love. Number one was in my junior year of college, I worked as a cook in the dorm with Sharon. We got to be buddies but I was smitten. I’d volunteer to work whatever shift she was on just to be around her. Sometimes we’d clean the griddles together, and let me tell you that is one erotic experience. You put your weight on the scrubbing screen and push forward and back with your loins pressing into the warmth of the griddle. Standing next to you is a hot young lady doing exactly the same thing, both of you getting sweatier and hornier with every thrust… dang I miss that job.
Her name was Josephine Riggs, the daughter of the town doctor. I expressed my love for her by filling my mouth with water and spewing it all over her chest. Didn’t go over too well. It was unrequited love all during elementary school but then she disappeared into some private school and I never saw her again.
I was 16, he pursued me quietly through years of gentle friendship. Suddenly I grew aware that I felt more for him too.
We dated a year and a half. I broke up with him after basic training. I had just changed so much, and him not at all.
I still smile when I think of him and how sweet he was in every way. He was the yardstick by which all others were measured, and most came up short.
Reciprocated? 22, in college. Her name was Sylvia.
Hurt real bad when we broke up five months later. I had to stop watching ‘Wings’ because one character (Roy) kept having breakdowns over his ex-wife, who was also named Sylvia.
I first fell in love at the age of 24. I was a geek in high school and didn’t do well with women. (OK, that’s still true. )
She is directly responsible for where I am now. I was working as a parking attendant and had no idea where I wanted to go in life. She was a 3 years older than me and she told me that: If I were her age and made a better living she would marry me.
I had no way of getting to be her age, but I wanted to marry her so I thought about what I wanted to do. I always liked to read and though maybe I would write a book. I sat down and wrote out several hundred pages. Then I got a computer to type it on. Well, the book sucked, but I found I was pretty good with this computer thing. So off to school I went. And nearly 20 years later, here I am a manager of a software team.
She made me laugh like no one else. I still miss her.
As for me, I was 14, and fell in love with my then-girlfriend who was two years older than me. I don’t know if it was “true love” (I know she didn’t feel that way), but it was first love, and that was almost as good.
)