Discuss your first love
I fell in love with a boy in my class when I was a teenager. My family moved when I was ten and I had to change schools, and that’s when I ended up in his class. I don’t want to tell you his real name, but let’s call him Pete.
Pete wasn’t the cutest boy in class, or the funniest. To be honest he was kind of geeky. He was artsy (he loved to draw Stormtroopers) and loved listening to Abba. When we grew older he became even geekier and less popular. He started listening to electronic music and dress differently. He had problems with his skin, and his hair always looked like he’d put his fingers in the wall socket and electrocuted it every morning. But he was beautiful on the inside.
(To be honest I wasn’t pretty or popular either, so I’m not judging. And I realized pretty quickly that the cutest boy in class was a real douchebag and I learned early on that looks aren’t important.)
Pete was smart and kind and we became friends. We both loved to read and listen to music, and had the same kind of dorky humor. We were good students, and helped each other out.
And one day I realized I was in love with him.
He didn’t love me back.
When we started high-school we attended different schools. The final day of junior high there was a dance at school. He asked me to dance and I cried on his shoulder. But Nell, he said, we’re not dead yet. I know that was the clumsy way of a 15-year old boy to try and comfort a friend who happened to be in love with him, and give her hope. It didn’t help much.
We stayed friends over the years, but nothing more ever came of that infatuation. And a few short years later I met another boy, the cutest boy I’d ever seen, with big brown eyes and ridiculously long eye-lashes. I married him.