Stories...

It is a day of stories. After reading poet’s and bj’s it got me thinking……well, about my first love and that story.

Poet was talking about Googling people. Yeah, I still Google my first love. In fact, I know where she lives, her phone number and even her email address. But, do I contact her? No. What would be the point in that? We are both happily in love with other people (well, I hope that for her) living and thriving in different cities. But, if I did contact her it would only be to thank her and wish her well. "Thank her for what?" you say? Well, she was my first love……

I had just arrived at Purdue and moved into my apartment off campus. I already had a group of friends because my previous gf was from there. So, I was at a party at a friend’s house when another friend, J, came over and introduced me to M. I didn’t think much of it to be honest. After several other parties J told me that M really liked me. Really? Initially, I was not interested in this yuppie woman from Chicago who wore a Rolex on her wrist. I ignored her. That was when J started showing up at my house with M in tow, a six-pack of beer and a joint. We would proceed to get wasted and J would accidentally forget to take M with her when she left. I really still wasn’t that interested but hey, I’ll make out and Oh hey – well, ok – I’ll have sex.

That’s how it all started. Eventually, my resolve and disinterest evaporated and my heart beat strong for her.

I looked for her on campus and my heart would skip a beat when I found her in the union smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee – with her straight friends who had no idea she was gay and that we slept together. I would approach the table and she would look up and see me and I would glimpse a look of panic wash over her face and disappear. I would say hi she would say hi back. Her friends would look at me like “Who is this?” They eventually came to know me as one of M’s gay/rugby friends and that was it. M continued to keep her secret life hidden throughout our college years.

Our relationship – if you can call it that – was on during the school year but when holiday and summer breaks occurred she would disappear to Chicago without a word. I never knew when our relationship would resume until I found her standing on my doorstep. During those times we shut ourselves in my apartment and made love for days on end. We hardly drank or ate – we just made love and slept – for a weekend, sometimes a week. We skipped our classes. Our friends never knew where we were. The phone rang unanswered. The world had somehow stopped for us and all we knew was each other and our bodies.

Then, reality would hit. Her roommates had been worried and would not speak to her for days after she got back. Her pseudo boyfriend (yes, she had one of those, too) would have been looking for her. Only my friends knew what was up. We went back to the furtive looks in the union. Me never knowing if I would have her in that way again.

This went on throughout much of my years at Purdue. Once summer break occurred she would disappear and I would try to forget her.

It ended very badly for us. I couldn’t stop seeing her, stop loving her until I moved to Atlanta to do an internship. I had to get away from her. While I was gone she finished up school and moved away. I never saw her again. The last time I did see her was in the union – holding hands with my ex gf -the one I was with after her. Finally out to her friends. They were together for years after college. I kept up with her through my friend, J and then N. I heard that they moved to CA and bought a condo. But, then they broke up and M moved back to Chicago. I think she lives in Madison, WS now. I feel no ill will towards her. I would like to think I have taken the fond memories of my first love with me. I remember that she wore this cologne that I could never find but loved the smell of. It was her smell. She had this Thomson pattern cashmere scarf that she always wore with a long wool coat. She introduced me to Erasure, The Cure and The Smiths. To this day I always think of her when I hear songs from these bands. She had posters of Salvador Dali on the wall of her apartment. She never drove a car. She had a great laugh. I have one picture of us taken in my kitchen. She is in front of me and I have my arms around her. We are both smiling. I have a mullet. ;-)