Get yourself a nice beverage and nestle into your favorite comfy spot for a few minutes. It’s story time.
Back in 1995, I met my first real boyfriend via my mom, who worked with him at a group home. She thought that we would be a good match and she was right. We hit it off from the start. Plus, his name was Mike, which was my fathers name.
I was 21 and he was 20. He was tall, a little chubby, with blonde hair that fell lackadaisically into his blue eyes.
Our first date was at a haunted hay ride at a farm. After that, he took me to see his beloved horse.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, I get allergic smelling hay.
It didn’t take long before I started wheezing and snotting all over myself. Even my eyes welled shut, itching like crazy. I was so embarrassed, what an awful first impression! But he stopped at a store so that I could get some antihistamines and he seemed sympathetic.
I was sure that I would never hear from him again, but he called me the next day and asked me to go to the zoo with him. He promised that we would stay far away from the farm animals.
We went on real dates, not just over to his house so that I could watch him play video games in his basement like I was used to with the other guys I had known in the past.
Eventually, we ended our time together parking at Edgewater beach, where we would make out in his car. For the 8 months that we dated, we never consummated our relationship. Yes, we had discussed it, but he was a virgin. (I was not.) I had no idea how to initiate sexy time back then and he didn’t either. So we were kind of like that song “Night Moves” by Bob Seger.
We were getting our share.
It was frustrating for me, because I think that I was more interested in getting funky than he was. Talk about a total role reversal. All of the dudes that I had been involved with previously worked hard to get down my knickers, so I was totally out of my element.
A few weeks before Christmas, he told me that he loved me. I didn’t hesitate and said it back. I remember feeling like I was floating on a cloud, everything was shinier, the world was my oyster, I was walking on sunshine…I was in love!!
When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas, he said me wrapped in a bow!
*Cue the vomiting*
He would drive us by the mansion houses near Lake Erie and say that someday we would live in one. He was planning our future together (which must have included him saving himself for when we were married.) I let myself daydream with him, imagining our kids running on the sprawling front lawn, while we sipped mint juleps on the porch swing.
Winter turned to spring. It was around Easter when I noticed that he was becoming more aloof. He didn’t call me as often, although I continued to make sure that I was home by 8 PM every night, just in case. He worked the night shift, so he slept during the day.
We didn’t see each other regularly like we had before. My mom had found another job, so perhaps he figured it was a good time to break things off with me so that he wouldn’t have to explain why he was breaking her daughters heart.
Which he did. Actually, he pulverized it. He stuck it in a blender and hit puree.
After two weeks of not hearing from him, I took every card and love note he ever gave me, went for a walk and threw them into a sewer grate. I gave my mom the sliver heart ring that he gave me for Sweetest Day and pawned the earrings that I had received from him for Christmas.
One of my friends and I went out for a nice lunch afterwards.
I have the answer to what becomes of the brokenhearted, in case you’re curious.
They start to date someone on the rebound and end up getting pregnant within two months. So soon after my first love dropped me like a hot potato, my 6 year stint in The Twilight Zone began with my daughters biological father.
I still think of Mike 20 years later and wonder what became of him. Yes, I have looked him up on Facebook, but I can’t find him. Which is probably just as well. Honestly, it still hurts a bit. Maybe you never really get over your first love. At any rate, if we had stayed together, I wouldn’t have my daughter, who I love more than anything.
She was worth living in hell for.
Things work out the way they are supposed to in the end, don’t they?
I forgive Mike for “ghosting” me. We were just two dumb kids. I hope that wherever he is now, he’s happy.
Although a part of me also hopes that he has hemorrhoids.