Sunday, January 20, 2008

First Love

I have love on the brain. Not sure why... Maybe it's because I just wrote a short scene depicting my protagonist's first crush. Maybe it's because I had a girls' night out on Saturday and watched 27 Dresses. Maybe it's because I'm crazy about Ingrid Michaelson's new CD--especially "The Hat," a sweet and soulful song about first love. (Sidebar: you have to check out her CD. It's a little bluesy, a little folksy, a little jazzy and a lot of fun. She has a great sound.) Anyway, all this talk about first love has me thinking about my own.

My first love was the first boy who I found attractive on a million different levels. Of course I had found boys "cute" before, but my first love was funny, charming, intelligent, talented in so very many ways, and attractive on top of it all. I got to know him as a friend over the course of two and a half years, all the while loving him in secret and mourning every time he fell for another girl--and fell all over himself to race to my side so he could tell me all about it. Sigh. Anyway, when he finally woke up and realized that he loved me, too, I had just found the strength to let go of him. It was too late. (Sounds a bit like the plot of 27 Dresses, actually.) Awww... Isn't that a sad story? Tragedy in the fragility of our full little hearts and all that sappiness.

Actually, tragic or happily-ever-after, I just adore these sorts of stories. We are so complicated, our stories are so multi-layered and diverse, so esoteric and unplottable. I adore the fullness of life, and love, that God allows us to experience. And I find the pain beautifully bittersweet--maybe not at the moment, but oh, the perspective afterward...

I digress. What I actually wanted to do with this post was solicit YOUR story. Who was your first love? Do tell. No names, please, but do take a moment to come out from lurking in cyberspace and share your tale. Did you marry him/her? Come to your senses and realize that he/she was really all wrong for you? Pine over him/her for years? If you don't feel comfortable posting a comment, feel free to email me:

As for me, I didn't marry my first love. I married my last, and best, love. And I like looking back at the journey that led me to my Aaron, knowing that every step along the way, even the heartbreaks, were designed to prepare my heart for his. Awww... isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever read? Don't you hate it when the truth is so disgustingly saccharine? Hmmm... What does this post make me? A cynical romantic? A romantic cynic? A big softy with a jaded crust? Crusty? He-he-he! Whatever, just take a minute and tell about the person that made your young heart go pitter-patter.

No comments:

Post a Comment