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Life hasn't beaten you down, and a previous lover hasn't disappointed you. You first love is the purist form of love. Fair enough: It's all you have to measure against. Everyone only talks about his or her first.Įveryone and everything will always be compared to your first love. Nobody talks about buying his or her second house, getting his or her second car or having sex with a second person. But my first love will always be special. In the end, we broke up when she left early for college. I snuck away to Maine – although that's a story for another article – for a secret visit, and she hid in my closet when my mom came home early. We traveled between cities for holidays and wrote letters the old-fashioned way. We told ourselves a cruel universe conspired to keep us apart, but that we'd fight through it.įor over three years, we made it work. We both cried and swore that we'd stay in touch. When summer camp ended, our parents came and picked us up.
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We were inseparable for the rest of summer camp. It was this warm, happy, safe feeling I will never forget. I smiled at her, she smiled at me and I felt something I had never felt before. Later that night, as I walked through the quad, I heard a girl say, "Are you ever going to talk to me, or are you going to keep staring?" She also thought that she was awkwardly staring at me, and was embarrassed. I would later find out she couldn't hear me over the music. With about five minutes left before the show, I turned to her and said "Hi, my name's Mike." She looked at me, smiled and said nothing. I spent the first half of the show running through every witty thing I could possibly say. I was terrified, and I had no idea what to say. As the stars would have it, we ended up sitting next to each other at a performance of Blue Man Group. We were your quintessential awkward kids, so we were too nervous to approach one another.
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Over the next week or so, we saw each other across the quad, in the cafe and all over campus. Much like what happens in your typical rom-com, we caught each other's gaze for a split second, but smiled and said nothing. I was playing football in the mud, and she was sitting on a bench, cheering us all on. We saw each other not long after our parents moved us into our dorms. Puberty was beginning to take root, and our rose-colored lenses had not yet begun to fade away. We were young, awkward and inexperienced. Until I met my first love, I never understood what Tim McGraw was talking about when he said, “The memory of a first love never fades away.”