First loves can be tragic, they can be mistakes, they can be gateways into other relationships, they can be extinguished as quickly as they were ignited. My first love? It was great.
Well, it wasn't perfect. Far from it, really. He was 17 and Iwas 16. We were egotistical, hormone-driven, rule-defying teenagers. And though he told me he loved me several times, we never officially dated and he had the audacity to date other girls around the same time I professed my love for him. I couldn't sleep sometimes because I was on the verge of tears, hell, I was balling my eyes out because the newfound emotion was too intense to contain in my twig-skinny 16 year old body. It was actually pretty wonderful.
Almost eight years later, we still keep in touch, tell each other how great we are, how proud we are of each other's accomplishments. He's all grown up now, as am I, or at least I like to think so. He's been married for the past 3 years and happily so. We both had other loves since our loves drifted apart from each other and our hearts had moved on. We both remember fondly the times we were absolutely crazy about each other, because, whether or not I was his first love or if he had ever truly loved me at all, we shared a very deep connection.
I want to proudly say this though - my first love was and will always remain a wonderful person, and though at times I wondered what would happen if he didn't live so far away from me now (oh, and if he wasn't married), I have no regrets about any of my feelings for him at any point of our relationship and friendship.
Right now, feeling stressed out from school work overload and priorities and responsibilities of my adult life, I am ever so grateful that I got a chance to talk to him today. If he were ever to read this, I would tell him that he is a wonderful friend and that I am so thankful for every kind word he had for in times of need and despair.
Thank you, my first love.