My first love…

Well of course there were social and personal affects occurring at that same time in my life. When I began GSU, I was instantly attracted to a guy who would eventually be mine. He was a football player, from a more southern part of Georgia, with a baby and baby’s mother that were left behind so he could pursue his all American start (We’ll call him Mr. Football). He was quite a ladies man, with a medium brown complexion, bald head, and broad shoulders. He was so many things to me. He was handsome, funny, smart, athletic, and seemingly sensitive to my “sheltered city girl persona”. We became friends and then we became confidants. He finally saw the light and made me his wife… No. Kidding! It rhymed.

I watched him date and go out with a lot of girls, which would normally turn me off, but this time it didn’t. I almost saw it as him sowing his middle class oats, and was accepting of him getting all of it out his system. We eventually started seeing each other, and I almost felt privileged (please don’t judge me too harshly I was barely 20 years old). I knew that I loved him and we were so close for a portion of time and as I type this I have to consider that this entire relationship was probably totally different from his perspective. I would wash clothes for him, he would cook for me, I would stroke his ego, and he caressed mine. I wouldn’t listen to the rumors of him cheating on me and he assured me that they were just that, rumors. I felt like he was with me too much, or calling me too many times in a day for that to be true.

If I am sounding naïve, it’s because I was, and the Lifetime movies just weren’t hitting home. Although, I could never find proof that he was cheating- the spying, feeling self conscious and the heckling all started to take its toll and we broke up. This was probably the second biggest lost I had experienced. I had allowed him to take me where no other had before ( I was 21 by now).

About six months later I let him back into the most private and sacred part of my body… my heart (my mother just exhaled and thanked Jesus that I was speaking of my heart.) We talked on and off even when we were and were not together. We both openly talked about who the other was dating, feeling that the new companion was not worthy. We would talk and somehow I’d end up wanting and thinking that we were dating again. Although we would resume, the trust was never totally restored. I was so determined not to look like a fool for a second or third time.

I would bore myself if I didn’t jump ahead about two years where I had sworn that I would NEVER get involved with him again (Life is such a vicious cycle sometimes).  The only problem with that entire determination was that it was hard to end, because we had any proof that the other didn’t still love each other. Most times it’s so much easier to get over someone when a bad or negative event surrounds it. I never had a truly pissed off point with him, just your normal run of the mill arguments. Well a mutual friend invited me to his house, and it never dawned on me until I walked into his home, that my past and obviously my future would be there waiting. This is no different than television- my first step into the door we locked eyes, and I knew we would be together again, if only for a little while…