Feeling Vulnerable: One Love

When I’m scared and feeling uncertain and in between I always want to reach out to my first love. I haven’t spoken with her in 12 years. Summer of 2000 I think. The last time I saw her, her first born was 9 months and now he’s 12 and he’ll be 13 in November. I’ve been looking at pictures on FB. Stalking? Looking, just looking (I prefer the term looking) of her and her two brothers, her mom, her children? I think besides her beautiful son, she has two daughters. I was super close to sending her a stupid brief message but I didn’t. I came here to my blog to write. She’s as beautiful as ever. She takes the saddest photos and in that sadness there is so much beauty. I didn’t send a hey what’s up, long time message because there’s really no reason to. I love(d) her terribly. When I decided it wasn’t healthy to have her in my life and asked her not to email me or contact me anymore it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done or been through. One of the hardest. And I’ve had hard times. It took me over two years to say her name without tearing up or crying. She was never particularly sensitive to my emotions but there was that Virgo no nonsense thing I loved about her. I dream and drift and when I was afraid and not doing my best, she barely had to say anything to me to get me to straighten up and get on with what needed to get done. I need that energy now. It’s not a cheery, I believe in you. It’s like I can’t believe you’re doing anything else than what you know you need to do. It’s a fine line. Critical but not crippling criticism. It was constructive for me.

I didn’t message her because I am too low. If she didn’t answer I’d suffer and if she did I’d have to tell her what’s going on in my life. I’d have to face that we’ve lived a lifetime since we were first together. I was 16/17 when we were together and 22 when we stopped being in each others lives. I’m 33 now. She’s 32 now. I felt like I’d never ever move on with my life completely if I didn’t end our friendship. I could love another but I couldn’t completely commit to another if she was in my life. Ironically, I couldn’t commit to her either. Loving her made me want to love the whole world. Loving her made me want to love everything she loved. I loved her children before they were ever born. I loved them because she wanted them and she’d talk about them and even though they were years from being born when we were first together they were real to me and I loved them and envisioned them but to be honest, I always saw a boy and a girl and I always saw them sad. Sad and beautiful like their mother. And looking at some of the pics this early Easter evening of her eldest, he looks like I pictured him before he was born. Sad and and so very beautiful.

I didn’t message her because somewhere in the 5 years I knew her, perhaps midway through our friendship and maybe a couple years after we broke up, she got really religious. She became a Muslim. She would talk to me and try to save my soul. She told me we couldn’t be together because “two wombs don’t make a life” I always think about that and how devastated I was and how angry. I thought she lacked imagination. I hurt in a way I can’t describe. I consoled myself because even if I had been born a male, I didn’t want to be with her or marry her. I wanted to be lovers occasionally and best friends always. I wanted to share my life with her and be a part of her life and her family. I wanted to travel and when my travels were over always come home to where she was. I didn’t expect her to wait for me or not get married or have kids. I always wanted whatever she wanted for her happiness. What I hadn’t counted on is that she’d think that my life was wrong. That my lifestyle was wrong. That my love was wrong. That I was wrong. That I was immature and damned spiritually. She wanted me to go to heaven because she loved me. She wanted to spend eternity with me and wanted me to fly right and be straight. I told her how much I loved her and that her limits and her new reasoning and her righteous religious views were like putting a sealing on heaven. She made paradise fit in a snow globe. I don’t like being caged/limited. I like being free. Neither one of us could change the other’s mind or views. But we wouldn’t give it a rest. We loved each other and talked, emailed, texted, wrote letters everyday. Intense. I wonder, how’d I’ve get anything done. I did but I didn’t. Emotionally I was so fucked up and stuck. So I let her go and got me back and I only miss her when I’m feeling really upset and scared. Like I am now. Homeless with not much money. Stubbornly focused on school because there’s not much else I want to do. I don’t miss her when things are going great in my life.

So I didn’t message my first love. My first reciprocal love. My first lover. My favorite kisser, though my current gf is well on her way to taking the lead in that category. I didn’t message her because I looked at the pictures and I look at my life and what good could come from contacting her? What good? What’s changed? Nothing. Everything.

Nothing. Everything.

I don’t have anything to give her except my present confusion and my eternal slightly obsessive love and I can love her from here. From here in my heart (a safe place) and I can picture her in my mind’s eye and…when I am really feeling reckless I can go to FB and look up her name and look at her public pictures. I can press send a message to reconnect and choose

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8 thoughts on “Feeling Vulnerable: One Love

  1. your predicament is the same with mine just on the different level…nice sharing at least you still remember everything and found the courage to post it here. I wish i could do the same thing but everytime i try memories are flooding me with tears.

    • It’s true. First love never dies. I would take it further and say that love never dies. It changes form perhaps, but never really goes away.

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