A first true love is butterfly wings beating against the brain, clouding good judgement and all reason. An all-consuming, borderline obsession coupled with a physical ache that plagues the body. It’s the kind of excitement rivaled only by a young child’s on Christmas Eve.
In a word, our first true love is glorious.
He was a few months younger than I, a face the opposite of what had filled my dreams for so long: shocking blonde hair and soft blue eyes replaced the dark waves and olive skin I had always envisioned. Though his eyes weren’t the stuff of my daydreams, they only saw the best in me and ya can’t beat eyes like that. Little gifts, love notes, holding hands–our sweet romance was picture perfect.
We were inseparable for almost four years, then that bastard cheated on me and I humiliated myself trying to win back his affections, but eventually came to my senses and opted to respect myself instead of grovel at his feet.
And yes, he did eventually come crawling back. Saying too little too late was the. best. thing. ever.
How realistic had it been to actually believe I would marry my first love? My high school sweetheart? In retrospect, not very. To those who have made it happen, I raise my glass to you. I then chug it because had I ended up betrothed to my “one and only,” I would’ve missed the huge mistakes I had to make in order to snag the face in my dreams.
A decade of marriage, two houses, and three kids later, my notions of romance have evolved quite a bit. What was once spontaneous trips and sipping wine with our feet in white sand morphed into willingly washing the baby bottles comprised of 6 different pieces that require a aerospace engineering degree to assemble, gathering the garbage from all the bedrooms, and pre-cutting fruit for the kids’ lunches.
We each have our own love language, and when we find a person who speaks it fluently, that is romance. Nothing makes me de-pants faster than a man who does the grocery shopping. Bonus points for remembering the reusable bags…
I’m not the only one, right? Leave a comment about what romance is to you or join the conversation on Facebook.
When he does the dishes and remembers to wipe over the bench and put dinner away. When he takes out the trash without me asking. ‘De-Pants’ is my new catch phrase…
🙂 🙂
Almighty whitey
GET me. See me as I am, not what I could (or should) be. Know instinctively when the graham crackers are about gone, and work with me to do something about it.
Graham crackers!!!!!!
So totally necessary! (Ever had a frosting/graham cracker sandwich?)
I have not! Yet…
They’re the best, SJ. The best.