Do you remember the first person you thought you "loved"? (I'm talking romantically, not your mommy or daddy... unless you're a wacko or sicko or weirdo who should really be in therapy instead of reading this non-Oedipal posting.)
For me, it was Scotty P. I was two or three, he was five years my senior. We both hated getting our hair washed.
Love, I tells ya. Love.
He didn't like me, of course -- what seven-year-old is going to dig a toddler? But fortunately his brother Mark (who was two years older than Scotty) would hold him down so I could smooch away.
Those boys were handsome, and I'm sure they are hunky forty-somethings. I've long since abandoned my adoration of Scotty, but I still have fond feelings for my first true love. So innocent, so naive.
So... tell me about your first love.
(And make sure you name names -- that's more fun.)
Sunday, January 27, 2008
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David S. in first grade. He used to invite me over to his house for endless games of hide and seek in his vast back yard. One day he said he took me behind some impossibly tall bushes (which were probably only 5 feet tall) and I can still remember the magical way the slivers of sunlight looked on us as he gave me my first kiss.
The next week he pulled my pants down at school.
Ah, l'amore.
He didn't "say he took me." I started a thought and then finished another there, sorry.
The first naive puppy love I can remember was Todd S. I was in elementary school, so was he. I chased him on the playground and when I caught up with him, I brazenly said, "You better kiss me now." He did. I wrote on a piece of paper, "Todd S. kissed me on the playground and I was in La La Land." My mom found it and took it to work, read it to all the woman, really humiliated me. That was my first one. Yeppers.
Ahh... his name was Travis and we were in preschool together, so we would have been about 4. We were going to run away to California and live on the beach (did I mention this was preschool?)... Of course, I don't know what we'd live in on the beach, but we didn't care. **insert wistful sigh here**
His name was László (why of course he was Hungarian) and after debaing over a couple of weeks whether we were actually in love or not we split. Just as simple as that.
oh, and I was 13!
I was a very shy kid, but there was a boy in kindgergarten that I was fascinated with. I knew that I shouldn't follow him around, but I could not help myself. His name, I think, was Carl, and he was Asian, but had been adopted by a white couple. I can still remember holding onto Carl's collar and trailing him around the playground. He told me to scram, but so great was my attraction that I couldn't do it even though I was deeply ashamed of myself. Eventually, he managed to shake me off.
Wonder where he is now?
Hoodie: And what did you do after the pants came down, hmmmm?
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Hoodie2: You know, I didn't even think about the "he took me" line, but it's darn funny!
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Beth: Moms are cruel sometimes, aren't they? Why the hell did we write this stuff down, anyway, though? I have a diary filled with embarrassing things. Maybe I should post them and get them out in the open once and for all!
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Kim: Do you still think of him every time you're at the beach? Four is a little young to be thinking of escape, but, hey, why not?
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Szelsofa: You were a late bloomer! Thirteen! Here we are talking about puppy love in preschool and elementary school! Wow! We're uber sluts compared to you! :)
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Mary: So you were basically his first stalker? ;)
Oh, yes I was a late-bloomer. Thank you for the expression!
Now, I am so NOT into telling you about my age the time I first (got)kissed.
so very very NOT telling you. Never. Ever.
heeee :)
Szelsofa:
Oooo... you tease! :)
Angelique
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