Well, which shall I do first then? I suppose there's always something to be said about chronological order!
My first kiss happened when I was fifteen. It was at a friends birthday party. The guy in question I happened to have had the most humongous crush on for the past year or so, and had met him at my youth drama club. He hadn't been for a while, indeed he had not been for months, and I'd kinda started to forget all about him.
Anyhow, a week or so before this party, which was to be the first 'big grown up' party with alcohol a flowing and minimal contact from parents that I attended, a little rumour got out that said crush would be attending too since he'd stayed in touch with the friend whose birthday it was. I think all my friends could pretty much see right through me as I grew steadily more and more hopeful/excited about the whole thing, and there was no hiding the truth from them. The night of the party, I'd managed to find a seat next to him and was being so embarrasingly obvious that a friend got up and said "right, that's it", shepherded everyone out of he room, switched on the 'mood lighting' (a red spiky table lamp, how romantic!) and told us we weren't to come out till we'd 'sorted things out'.
Now this could have been the prelude to all kinds of horrible teenage things but thankfully it wasn't. And nothing ever came from that single kiss. Yet again, thankfully in hindsight, though I didn't think that at the time! We snuggled on the sofa the rest of the evening then we went to bed and then we went home and I never saw him again.
My first love I wish had been so uncomplicated and innocent as teenagers fumbling around under the red light and knowing gaze of friends. Indeed, I know he looks me up from time to time online still so it will probably be a suitable boost to his ego to read that he was my "first love" but such feelings have a habit of becoming bitter and jaded with age. Hopefully soon the years will have passed sufficiently enough to make it less bitter and more 'completely indifferent'.
It was a long distance thing and I'm not going to go into too much detail because, somehow, I still have some semblence of respect for the guy and I wouldn't want to plaster his business all over the internet (he is also a very private guy). However, I will tell you the basics. We met when I was 17 because he played some silly online game with my cousin, who happened to introduce us online for no apparent reason other than he was bored.
By my cousin's usual standards of company at the time, this guy was pretty witty and intelligent to my innocent young eyes. Actually it really suprised me when I found out English wasn't his first language. We had similar interests and aspirations at the time and shared a number of dreams. We had the same taste in tv, movies, music, pass times. We exchanged contact info and stayed in touch.
It didn't take long before the inevitable happened and in a rush of hormones, certain 'feelings' got involved. With my parents blessing (he is five years older than me, which I doubt anyone at all would bat an eyelid at now, but when you are younger such age gaps are quite exaggerated, and rightly so...especially since this was someone met over the internet) he visited us in the UK and we hit it off like a house on fire.
We lasted about a year and in that time we holidayed together in Amsterdam, which was quite amazing. It didn't last though, for various reasons. Oddly enough, I don't think the distance in so far as not physically seeing each other was a problem, but it created jealousy, paranoia, bitterness, all those wonderful emotions that like to rear their ugly head.
In the end we both betrayed each other. In completely different ways, may I add, and I'll put up my hands and admit it was me who stepped into the realms of infidelity. He knows, but it wasn't that which ended it, it was just one of many nails in the coffin. In the end I think we were both such highly strung, intense characters, it would never have worked. It was amazing while it did, but had he been living in the house next door it was still not meant to be.
After a few months where we didn't speak at all we eventually did get back in touch, and we've sporadically been in touch on and off ever since. It usually ends with him pissing me off somehow and me storming off and then months if not years will go by and one or the other will ask my cousin again "oh, how are they doing" and it'll start again. It's a shame, considering how much we had in common at the beginning, to see how much seperates us in differences now. I think, considering that I am the age now that he was when we ended it, he has more or less remained the same and I have changed beyond recognition. This means that when we do talk it sometimes feels like I'm talking to some silly stuck in the past teenager, and I can only imagine that he feels like he is talking to a complete stranger. We don't know how to relate to each other anymore.
It's a shame, as I don't really hate him for who he is and I find his open honesty quite endearing. We'll never be close though. Like I said, even when I try my very best now he only ends up pissing me off one way or another, and besides having a husband who generally hates his guts (our breakup was not an easy one and it was Ben who had to pick up the pieces, so he is naturally very suspicious and wary of him) isn't conducive to participating in a active friendship.
Anyhow, there you have it, my first kiss and my first love. One very fleeting and quite cute and humorous, the other rather intense and scary. I'm happy to say that I don't regret anything that I've done with regards to my past relationships though. They have turned me into the woman that I am today, and that happens to be the woman that Ben loves. I am beyond thrilled to be that woman :)
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