Talking with my 16-year-old cousin, she was shocked that I remembered the name of my first boyfriend.
My first though was, "How old do you think I am? I'm only 28."
Then my mind skipped to a less cynical channel and I replied, "You don't forget those kinds of things."
I was 16 myself, a senior in high school, secretly dating a potential fire fighter named Kyle. He had the body and charm, but not the focus of a fire fighter. After three months he broke up with me. At first he paid me a compliment that I was his longest lasting girl friend. He said I lived too far away, so we had to break up since how I didn't have a license. Or maybe there was another reason. I dunno. Perhaps it was because I didn't mention to my folks that I was dating him, because they only believed in courting.
I learned my lesson with boyfriend # 2. He had a sit down with my parents who grilled him about his intentions. I can only imagine how nerve wrecking that was for him. I wasn't allowed to be there. He told them he wanted to marry the 17-year-old me. I think he was 20. I did enjoy dating him and we lasted a year. I dumped him when he dropped the ball for my birthday and he didn't do anything to make me feel special.
So what did I do next? I dated our co-worker. Not intentionally to be mean. The cowboy had caught my eye for some time. He was the youngest certified pastry chef in Colorado. He was a little older than boyfriend #2 and he was a wild card. Casey lived for getting reactions out of people. He had a mohawk that he didn't spike, but instead put up into crazy pigtails. His favorite drink was from a 1/2 empty can of mountain dew half full of parrot bay.
He was my first love, which figures that he cheated on me and even proposed to the girl while we were still dating. I found out when I called and offered to help her move across town. She bit my head off and she wanted to know why I was calling because she was going to marry my boyfriend just one month later. I guess he hadn't told her that we were still together. I hung up and started sobbing. She called back. My mom chewed her out. Thank you mom.
Next I dated a very sweet guy, who drove the truck that I wanted, a green Ford F350. Instead of getting myself a truck I bought a '93 Subaru Legacy that I couldn't drive because it was a manual. After reading an article in the encyclopedia on how the clutch works, Everett and I would take turns practicing driving my car behind Safeway. A month later my car died. I abandoned it on the side of the road. That's when I decided to move to California for art school.
Fast forward to freshman year at college #2, where I dated a guy who I chronically forget his last name. (At least I know his first name.) That's how serious we were. I remember his roommate's full name. So needless to say that didn't last.
Then I was blessed with dating a guy who treated me great and I loved him. Win-win. Ian and I were together all through college and post college, totaling seven years. He helped me to not take life so seriously and to start recycling. His dad diagnosed my food allergies. I'm so lucky to have met Ian and his family.
Now I'm in a 1 1/2 year drought (as some may call it), being boyfriend-less. Honestly, I've been too preoccupied to focus on someone else. In that time I've moved out on my own and learned how to support myself. I'm blessed with wonderful friends. I enjoy my jobs. I'm blessed. I'm excited to see where life takes me next. I'm ready to love someone. Bring it.