Oy vey. Can I skip this one? No? Okay...
Well, my first love was this complicated thing. We met my freshman year of high school (2007-2008) in the homeschool co-op's geometry and chemistry classes (which my mom happened to be teaching). We started dating in the spring, made it through the summer, and broke up part-way through the fall semester. The next year was a bunch of ups and downs, speaking and not speaking to each other, and never really being able to quit liking each other. The time just wasn't right.
Then, this past spring (2010) we started going on "dates" but denying that we were anything but friends. We started sort of dating at the end of that May. How can you "sort of date"? Well, I was moving 1500+ miles away, and we weren't sure if we liked each other enough to try to date long-distance, so we were testing the waters and seeing what God brought our way. A week later (the first week of June) he went out of town for a week. He came over the Saturday at the end of that week to hang out, watch a movie, and have dinner with my family.
My family didn't officially know we were trying to date again, and we had people coming in and out of the game room during the movie, but I had snuggled up next to him and he had his arm around me anyways. It was dark, I was getting tired. He was brushing his fingers along my arm closest to him. I'm not sure I was even paying attention to the movie anymore; I think I was considering letting myself fall asleep right there and wishing I could just stay there for the rest of time. He brushed his fingers up my arm again, to my cheek, and turned my head towards his. He kissed me. It was over before I realized it had actually happened. I sat there for a couple minutes trying to figure out if I was dreaming or if he had really just kissed me, and wishing he'd kiss me again. He did.
That night was the start of two whirlwind weeks before I moved cross-country. We spent some time of every day of the next week together and tried to make every second count. Two days after that first kiss, we decided we had stepped out of the bounds where we could say we weren't dating. After 2 1/2 years, everything seemed to be working out for us--finally. It was that summer that I decided that I loved him. Maybe not lifetime-love kind of love, but we were just starting out, and I thought I could love him like that if given the chance.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Events occurred that were outside of our control over the next 2-3 months, and we ended up breaking up. But a first love is a first love: you never forget it and maybe you never move on completely. And who knows what the future holds for either of us.
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