We were happy and then we weren't.

Not too long ago, I found out my first (and only) serious boyfriend (before Travis) got married.  The emotions I felt weren't planned.

The backstory, September 1995.
I stepped foot onto my high school campus a naive, nervous wreck wondering what friends I would make and whether I would get in a fight.  I always had this strange obsession some chick was plotting to jump me and my noodle arms weren't used to physical punching.  9 months later though, I left that June graduation day happy any calls of "freshman scrub" would bounce right off, happy I was fist-fight free, and all the while realizing I discovered some of the best friends that luckily remain with me today.  They can-opened my world to a level of friendship I truly needed and exposed my brain to experiences.  Throughout the final day, we had been trying to figure out something brilliant to do since summer-time central was happening.  We finally got wind of a post-graduating party, which holy shite was gonna our first. ever.

I saw him by way of drunk-on-Boones Strawberry Hill hazey eyes, playing bass at the party.  I don't remember whose idea it was to buy Boones, but I guess if your first teenage introduction to alcohol is gonna be an easy one, Boones isn't the worst.  The wall I teetered on was kind enough to keep me upright, while he and his punk band played in the living room.  He had a mohawk, which kept slowly moving around the room, despite his body being so animated.  I remember I couldn't focus on his face, but I sternly thought man that guy is fucking cute - I should totally make out with him.  But instead, as Boone's is one to do, I went outside, sat in the bed of a truck and made out with another feller.

That non-introduction would be the only encounter for a few years, but he would pop in my thoughts when my mind went reminiscing.  We did end up meeting organically though, walking to class one day; I didn't realize at first it was the guy who had stopped my beats.  My friend struck up a conversation with his buddy, leaving us to naturally start our own.  As the chit chat played out, I realized who it was and left in a giggly mess.  From then on, our romance flourished into an awesome, illuminating and bittersweet stretch of time...


The Present:
I don't want to focus on the things we did or the firsts we shared, but rather how someone from so long ago can still strum the emotional chord reserved for their pitch.  When that chord has been neatly wrapped in flannel for almost 20 years, I was blindsided by the memories it stirred.  And way confused why my heart cared.  Really - how is it even possible my first boyfriend could actually be over me...?!      Thanks facebook.*

My left hand has always wanted him to be happy.  I mean, we were happy and then we weren't.  Or at least I wasn't.  During the break up, he didn't seem to understand my reasons.  But I hope in retrospect it was just a bad case of the young eyes.

My right hand, my dominant hand, secretly wishes there will always be an unfulfilled cell by me leaving him.  It's a little twisted but I believe more based in reality than most will admit to.  I guess it's the emotional hunger that is appealing.  To be desired.  Wanted by someone, no?  Even if we've removed a person from our lives, doesn't mean we don't imagine them still giving a fancy.

* I only found out through Facebook because one of my high school girlfriends from above, liked his life change update - I am not online friends with him.  Although, like many people, used to occasionally look him up.  you know, just out of curiosity.