my first and worst love

This story is a tragedy. I’ve told it a million times. In fact, it’s most of my stories, but I’ve left out much of it. I’ll tell you more and more each time, I swear. Here’s the most I can give you today:

He was my first love. It all began when I was 18 and he was 17. We were almost to the end of our senior year of high school. March 24th was our first date. I had never been romanced before. I’d had crushes, been on dates, been kissed, been felt up in someone’s basement by a guy I hated. But, I’d never felt something like I had that night. I was wearing ripped jeans, a black tank top, a flannel shirt, my black converse, and my dad’s old jacket. I still have the last two items. The shoelaces are frayed and the jacket’s pockets are ripped, though. We had pizza and ice cream, and talked about our future plans - college, jobs, moving away from home.

I had already committed to school, but he was waiting on a letter from his top choice. He wanted to be a theater major. I only went to one school play - the children’s play he was in - because I hate plays (for the most part). He’d actually told me not to go to it, but I did anyway, and I think I still have the ticket stub and the playbill with a kiss mark over his name. I wore pink lipstick that day.

He got his degree in computer science but works in email marketing (I despise advertising of all kinds, but not because of him). But, before all that he moved back to Italy, and we were long distance for a year. It was awful, minus when he visited me at Christmas. I drove to the airport to see him. It was raining and I listened to “Friday I’m in Love” by The Cure on the way home. I got distracted and took the wrong exit. I ended up on the toll road.

Our second date was at the mall. I wore yoga pants and I may have been hungover again. I know I was tired. I don’t drink anymore which makes this story funnier to me. When we were walking, I started singing along to the music they played over the intercom and he said to me, “you know every song”, which isn’t true, but I know a lot of the hits from the past 50 years. We sat on a couch in the Macy’s furniture section for hours. Long enough for someone who worked there to come up to us and comment on it. He said he’d already sold the couch and didn’t mind that we’d been there for so long, he just thought it was interesting. He said, “When you two get married, come back here, so I can sell you some furniture”, and we used to reference that all the time. We didn’t get married, not even engaged.

On our third date, we went on a walk at a park near my neighborhood. We ended up back at my house (not in that way, that comes later). He met my mom for the first time, and we went upstairs to “watch TV” aka makeout. We made our relationship official that day. I was wearing my favorite overalls that I still get compliments on to this day. I bought them specifically to wear on that date.

Our fourth date was prom. My dress was $450, and it was the most beautiful I had ever felt. I was not popular in high school, but he was relatively popular. I ended up getting compliments from people who had never spoken to me. We went back to my friend’s house for the afterparty. He drove my car there. I got a little bit drunk on shots of Ciroc and we spent the whole party alone in my friend’s bedroom (not like that, that comes later).

That happened for the first time in late June, but I won’t tell the story. It was unremarkable to be honest. We had our first fight around that time. We were driving home from another park. I think I was driving because that was something that I used to do. I stopped the argument by cranking up the music. We were listening to “Jack and Diane” by John Mellencamp, and I was singing along to it. He used to like my singing and my taste in music back then. I took him back to my house and my mom convinced him to stay for dinner. We were fighting about something stupid and she was the one who ended it, albeit unknowingly.

The worst fight we ever had was when I was 21 or 22. Flash forward from senior year of high school to senior year of college. He was an anti-vaxxer and I made fun of him for it. I can’t remember what I said, but it wasn’t that offensive. He started screaming at me. He screamed at me until I sobbed on the floor of my bedroom. I stopped trusting him that night. I remember my friend was in the other room, and he texted me asking if I was okay, and I said “yes”. The next day, when my boyfriend had gone home, my friend asked me about the fight again and I told him that I started it, which is kind of true, but he said, and I’ll never forget it, “I can’t imagine what [his girlfriend’s name] would have to do for me to yell at her like that”. They live together now and are a very happy couple, I’m still friends with them both.

The reason for the breakup was not all the fighting. In the end, he cheated on me. He admitted to it in August. I was 23 and he was 22. He told me it had happened while he was away in Italy while we were 18/19 and that he had just kissed a few girls, so I forgave him. I told him not to do it again and he promised he wouldn’t. I visited him in mid-September and was there until October 30th. He called me on the 31st to tell me he’d cheated on me twice while I was there.

I told him he was a coward for not telling me before. The thing that made me the most angry was that he chose to confess over the phone. I didn’t even get closure because he didn’t want to see me cry in person, he couldn’t do it when we were together because he couldn’t bear to see my face. He didn’t cry when he told me. That made me angry too.

He started dating someone else, but we called each other and fell asleep on the phone together many nights for the next few months. He started going to see a therapist and he got better to some extent, he started letting me talk and had more empathy towards me. He apologized and told me he’d repented (he’s a devout Catholic). I told him that meant he was forgiven by God, but not by me. (I love the song “God Will” by Lyle Lovett, and I think it’s fitting).

Regardless, we saw each other in person in January, and we went on a weekend getaway to Savannah to try to patch things up. It ended in him yelling at me in the airport when I had a panic attack. We haven’t seen each other in person since then. I wish I could say I had a better last memory with him, but I don’t.

We continued to try to patch things up for months, multiple times. We broke it off once and I started dating this girl that I really liked (she broke my heart too, but she was nicer about it). The ex-boyfriend and I almost got back together in June, but we fought over the phone about sexual assault statistics. He said men get falsely accused all the time and I disagreed. I asked him if he really believed me when I told him what had happened when I was 16 and he promised he’d never hurt me like that. He said yes, and I asked him if he’d believe that I’ve had so many friends who have similar stories and he said he wouldn’t necessarily believe them. I hung up and told him I couldn’t do it anymore.

I think back to all the times I took Klonopin before having sex, so “it’d be easier for me to get through it”, and I think it makes that argument make more sense.

Last Thanksgiving, 5 months post-breakup, we went around the table and talked about what we were most thankful for, and I said that I was most thankful that he wasn’t in my life anymore. The whole table - my whole family - clapped for me.