I was eighteen when I met my very first love. He was in his early twenties and had no idea where his life was heading after college. I had just started and he was in his last year. Within a matter of months he would likely be going home, and I’d be staying put. I knew it would probably not work out between us, but we were so drawn to each other.
Our time together was unlike any I had ever spent with another person. Growing up, my parents did their best to shield me from the world. I was to focus on school and only school. So stepping into college, experiencing freedom and also a real relationship was not something I was prepared for. Mostly it made me afraid. Suddenly having so much to lose is a terrifying thing.
Our love is what opened my eyes to the fact that love itself is so simple. It’s not about fancy dates, gifts, or any sort of superficial sense of the word. It’s about the days you spend together never leaving the bed. The nights I fell asleep to his voice reading my favorite book of poetry. He and I listening to each other’s music for hours, showing each other our favorite movies, and sharing our deepest thoughts underneath the stars on the hood of his car.
Our sex drive was through the roof when we were together. There was no place in the entire house that we hadn’t fucked in. I swear, having sex when you’re in love puts you on top the world. Every night we were going at least two rounds, his fingers lit my entire body on fire every time he touched me.
He would hike my legs over his shoulders and pound into me until I screamed. But it was different from any hookup or one night stand, he truly saw me when we were making love. He looked into my eyes and I could see the amount of love he had for me in his. I’m sure he saw the same thing in mine. It made things so much more intense with our bodies pressed together, moaning and panting and just taking each other in. I’ve never craved sex the way I did when I was with him. His moans, his teeth seeking into my lips, his breath against my neck – it was more intoxicating than any drug imaginable.
When you’re so engulfed by someone, it’s hard to imagine reality coming into play and ruining what you have. When graduation came, my very first love vanished. We went from lovers to strangers in the blink of an eye. I suppose leaving our college town meant to him that it was time to move on from everything having to do with it. Sadly, that included me.
Years later I found my success. I had everything I ever wanted right in the palm of my hand. And yet, on the lonely nights even years later, his was still the face that would pop into my mind just before my head hit the pillow. His laugh was still so fresh in my memory. His smile, his voice, his scent, his touch – no amount of work or studying could save me from the torture of my own memories. I wanted to forget him, and there were moments when I would. But they were fleeting, and only made it worse when our memories came flooding back.
To this day I dream of him. His hands in mine, our bodies pressed against one another while we slept. The way he’d look into my eyes and kiss me passionately every time he made love to me. The way we connected was far beyond the physical, it was almost spiritual. I truly believed he was my soulmate.
Losing my very first love has shaped me in ways beyond even my own comprehension. I do wonder if he’ll ever come back to me. I know well that if he ever does he’ll be welcomed back with open arms. He was my safe place. Together underneath his heated blanket, hiding from the cold winter outside, murmuring sweet nothing’s into each other’s ears.
That is where our love lasts. When I think of love, I think of us. And no matter how far he is, or how long it’s been, that flame will continue to burn for eternity.
Want to skip the ooey gooey? Read my last blog all about being dominated by the naughty next door neighbor!
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