Long boring stories about me: My first boyfriend
I met Chris a group piano class that I really didn't belong in, the assigned work was ridiculously easy for me, so I spent the time in class practicing other pieces of music. Chris sat next to me, and would spend half of the class staring at me, ostensibly admiring my piano playing skills. After awhile I started noticing him around campus, he'd turn up just about everywhere I went. He didn't talk to me at all, until just before the end of class, when he saw me practicing in one of the piano rooms (there were a few private rooms with real pianos in them, that you could sign up to use) and asked me if I could show him how to play something.
That was when he professed his undying love to me. No, I'm serious, really. Apparently he had fallen in love with me the moment he saw me, with my beautiful hair cascading down my back (that's the way he talked) I was, naturally, irresistible (I always have that effect on men, it's a problem) he had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to me all term, he had followed me, and had pretty well memorized my schedule. (At the time I found this incredibly romantic, in hindsight, it's pretty damned creepy)
He was not deterred when I told him I was only 13. (He was 21, at this point I wouldn't think twice about dating a man 8 years my senior, but there really isn't any excuse for a 21 year old man to be pursuing a 13 year old girl [14, on the other hand, is totally understandable]). He had dreamt about me, he was certain that God wanted us to be together. He asked me to marry him. I did what any self-respecting 13 year-old girl would do. I said yes. (Come on, I know now that this guy was off his rocker, [it seems to be a continuing theme in my life, that crazy men want to marry me, but then, I guess you'd have to be crazy to want to spend the rest of your life with me] but this is the stuff that fairy tales are made of, and I was 13, for crying out loud)
This may have been the shortest betrothal ever, and it was certainly my shortest, (she says, as if engagement was a regular occurrence in her life) lasting a total of 11 days, before I broke the poor boys heart. But what a fabulous 11 days. He was everything a girl could ask for in a boyfriend, (except, of course, sane) attentive, sweet, heck, he even bought me jewelry. (a lovely little cross necklace, that sadly, I lost at some point along the way) And it was oh so exciting, sneaking around with a boy, taking walks in the woods and holding hands, planning our future together in the privacy of the piano rooms, where it had all started. He was the first boy I kissed, (post pubescent, that is) and he said I was the first girl he'd kissed (I'm pretty sure this was true) it was all really pretty sweet and innocent. We never "made out" or anything like that, we only kissed a handful of times, and they were sweet chaste kisses. He even wrote a song for me, and sang it to me.
His plan was for us to see each other secretly until my 16th birthday, at which point we would elope to Utah. (I don't know if anything has changed, but at the time a 16 year old could get married without parental permission there) Then we were going to start a family, while I continued to go to school, and he pursued his a career in music. Great plan, huh?
I decided to break it off with him over the weekend, the funny thing is I didn't really want to, I liked him, and I enjoyed the attention, but I was afraid my Daddy would find out, and I knew I wasn't gonna marry him, so it seemed like I would just be leading him on if I didn't. I sometimes wonder how different my life would have turned out if I hadn't decided, a week and a half through our relationship that he was more crazy than romantic. And I still feel a little bit guilty for breaking up with him, even after all these years. I'll never forget the expression on his face, when I told him I didn't think it could work out. I know it sounds weird, but he was just so sincere, obviously he had issues, but I think he really believed he was in love with me.
He told me that he would love me forever, and if I ever changed my mind, he'd be there waiting for me. I'm not sure what happened to him after that, I think he dropped out of school, though I'm not sure, in any event I didn't see him again until I was 16, I ran into him at the mall one day, and instantly felt a stab of guilt, he looked so startled to see me, and so forlorn. Our conversation was quick, just the normal "I haven't seen you in years" stuff. Before we went our separate ways he gave me his phone number and told me he was still waiting for me.
I never called him, and I haven't seen him since, but I think of him often, it's a bittersweet guilt-ridden memory, usually instigated by the song he sang to me the day I said goodbye. There's more to the song, but these are the verses he sang to me:
What did you think I would say at this moment
When I`m faced with the knowledge
That you just don`t love me
Did you think I would curse you
Or say things to hurt you
`cause you just don`t love me no more
Did you think I could hate you
Or raise my hands to you
Now come on you know me too well
How could I hurt you
when darling I love you
and you know I`d never hurt you-oo-wo-oo-o-o-o...
Wild huh?
That was when he professed his undying love to me. No, I'm serious, really. Apparently he had fallen in love with me the moment he saw me, with my beautiful hair cascading down my back (that's the way he talked) I was, naturally, irresistible (I always have that effect on men, it's a problem) he had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to me all term, he had followed me, and had pretty well memorized my schedule. (At the time I found this incredibly romantic, in hindsight, it's pretty damned creepy)
He was not deterred when I told him I was only 13. (He was 21, at this point I wouldn't think twice about dating a man 8 years my senior, but there really isn't any excuse for a 21 year old man to be pursuing a 13 year old girl [14, on the other hand, is totally understandable]). He had dreamt about me, he was certain that God wanted us to be together. He asked me to marry him. I did what any self-respecting 13 year-old girl would do. I said yes. (Come on, I know now that this guy was off his rocker, [it seems to be a continuing theme in my life, that crazy men want to marry me, but then, I guess you'd have to be crazy to want to spend the rest of your life with me] but this is the stuff that fairy tales are made of, and I was 13, for crying out loud)
This may have been the shortest betrothal ever, and it was certainly my shortest, (she says, as if engagement was a regular occurrence in her life) lasting a total of 11 days, before I broke the poor boys heart. But what a fabulous 11 days. He was everything a girl could ask for in a boyfriend, (except, of course, sane) attentive, sweet, heck, he even bought me jewelry. (a lovely little cross necklace, that sadly, I lost at some point along the way) And it was oh so exciting, sneaking around with a boy, taking walks in the woods and holding hands, planning our future together in the privacy of the piano rooms, where it had all started. He was the first boy I kissed, (post pubescent, that is) and he said I was the first girl he'd kissed (I'm pretty sure this was true) it was all really pretty sweet and innocent. We never "made out" or anything like that, we only kissed a handful of times, and they were sweet chaste kisses. He even wrote a song for me, and sang it to me.
His plan was for us to see each other secretly until my 16th birthday, at which point we would elope to Utah. (I don't know if anything has changed, but at the time a 16 year old could get married without parental permission there) Then we were going to start a family, while I continued to go to school, and he pursued his a career in music. Great plan, huh?
I decided to break it off with him over the weekend, the funny thing is I didn't really want to, I liked him, and I enjoyed the attention, but I was afraid my Daddy would find out, and I knew I wasn't gonna marry him, so it seemed like I would just be leading him on if I didn't. I sometimes wonder how different my life would have turned out if I hadn't decided, a week and a half through our relationship that he was more crazy than romantic. And I still feel a little bit guilty for breaking up with him, even after all these years. I'll never forget the expression on his face, when I told him I didn't think it could work out. I know it sounds weird, but he was just so sincere, obviously he had issues, but I think he really believed he was in love with me.
He told me that he would love me forever, and if I ever changed my mind, he'd be there waiting for me. I'm not sure what happened to him after that, I think he dropped out of school, though I'm not sure, in any event I didn't see him again until I was 16, I ran into him at the mall one day, and instantly felt a stab of guilt, he looked so startled to see me, and so forlorn. Our conversation was quick, just the normal "I haven't seen you in years" stuff. Before we went our separate ways he gave me his phone number and told me he was still waiting for me.
I never called him, and I haven't seen him since, but I think of him often, it's a bittersweet guilt-ridden memory, usually instigated by the song he sang to me the day I said goodbye. There's more to the song, but these are the verses he sang to me:
What did you think I would say at this moment
When I`m faced with the knowledge
That you just don`t love me
Did you think I would curse you
Or say things to hurt you
`cause you just don`t love me no more
Did you think I could hate you
Or raise my hands to you
Now come on you know me too well
How could I hurt you
when darling I love you
and you know I`d never hurt you-oo-wo-oo-o-o-o...
Wild huh?