I remember first love

I remember first love
17 March 2013

I remember first love.  I remember it very clearly.  I remember it like it was just yesterday.

And what a glorious feeling it was.  Stomach filled to the brim, with a million fluttering butterflies, having a dance party for sure.  A palpable air of excitement all around.  Giggling and love letters.  Reading them over and over and over again.  Analysing every single word.  Telephone ringing and heart squeezing tight.  Peering out the window, waiting for him to arrive.  Checking every few seconds and time seemingly dragging.  Front door bell ringing and feeling like I’m soaring.  Flying down the staircase - wings on my feet.  Sharing of secrets and everything all new.  Admiration.  Infatuation.  Perfection.  Complete and utter absorption.  Liking simply everything all at once.

When I was in High School, in about Standard Eight, there was a boy I was just mad about.  He was older than me by a year and he was THE cool guy at school.  Our paths crossed, a spark lit and I was completely and utterly smitten.  We even went out together for a few weeks.  It was an innocent and child-like relationship.  We were young and immature.  We broke up, got back together again, and then broke up for real once more.  For the longest time, I thought he was my first love.

Until I met Grant.  And once I met Grant, everything else seemed to fade into insignificance.  And paled in comparison.

I met my Grantie just two short weeks after I had turned seventeen.  In the January of my matric year.

And actually, I was not smitten at once.  In fact, I didn’t really feel like having a boyfriend at the time.  So, did Grant woo me extra hard then?  To try and win me over?

Most certainly not.  Truth be told, he was so painfully shy, he never said a word.  His friends did all the talking for him.  They pleaded his case with me and told me how much he liked me.  I actually found it all rather hard to believe.  Surely if he liked me, he would talk to me?  Or at the very least attempt to make eye contact?  But they were all rather relentless in their pursuit of me, on his behalf.  In fact, it was a bit of a team effort.  They even took money from his wallet, bought some flowers for me with his dosh, and told me they came from him.  Which they most certainly did.  Technically.  The problem came in though, when I thanked him for the flowers.  The flowers he had no recollection of ever giving to me.

Still, I thought he was rather cute.  And naturally handsome too.  Shy was okay.  It was far more palatable than a show-off, and a know-it-all.  Still, the jury for me was out, as to whether I really wanted a boyfriend in the first place.  That was, until I saw him in his navy Ice-Cream uniform.  Hold me down!!!  Wow!  And I am not shy to admit that I was shallow enough to decide right then and there, that he most certainly was the right guy for me.

Eventually he found his voice.  And what a sweet guy he was.

I remember all the firsts.  Holding hands.  Kissing.  Saying “I love you”.  It is such a brave thing to do.  Conquering the great unknown.

For me, a huge challenge, was introducing him to my mortifying family.  I just thought they were so uncool and would surely embarrass me.  I was convinced they’d say something inappropriate.  Or do something hideous and awful.  At just ten years old, Katrine fell hopelessly in love with him too.  She was your typical annoying little sister.  She’d insist on sitting right between the two of us on the couch.  Or she’d hang on his lips, try sit on his lap and annex every conversation.  At thirteen, I just thought that Albert was the biggest dork - ever.  He was sure to do something so irritating.  But perhaps my biggest fear was my folks.  They’d probably kiss each other.  And my Dad would squeeze my mom’s bum, the way he always did, when he kissed her and they had a cuddle.  Eeeuwww!!!  Furthermore, I knew they would interrogate him and ask him questions (Like how old are you?  What is your name?  Where do you stay?). And watch us with hawk eyes.  Parents – they’re just the pits when you’re a teenager.

The irony now, is that Luke will soon reach this same age.  Technically he’s there already and he’s even had the odd girlfriend.  Not that I’m getting any forthcoming info from him.  No way!  I’d have better luck getting info from a deaf mute, with no comprehension of sign language.  I have to rely on my spies out there, who keep me rather well informed.  I tend to know who he’s dating and for how long.  And then, naturally I play dumb, not betraying my knowledge.  Ever hopeful, he’ll end up telling me himself.

But, far sooner that I’d like to imagine, Luke will do a very, very brave thing.  He will face a huge challenge, and introduce a girl to his mortifying family.  And to think, we’re just so uncool and would surely embarrass him.  We’ll say something inappropriate, for sure.  And probably do something hideous and awful too.  At just 8 years old, Cole will probably turn up his rather significant charm.  He’ll be a typical annoying little brother.  He’d insist on sitting right between the two of them on the couch and try and annex every conversation.  At eleven, Luke is convinced that Amber is the biggest dork – ever.  She will surely do something irritating.  But perhaps his biggest fear of all will be his folks.  Grant and I will probably kiss each other.  And Grant might even squeeze my bum, the way he often does when he kisses me and we have a cuddle.  Eeeuwww!!!  Furthermore, we would interrogate her and ask questions (Like how old are you?  What is your name?  Where do you stay?). And watch them with hawk eyes.  Parents – they’re just the pits when you’re a teenager.

All I can say is…..Bring It On!!!

I look forward to witnessing first love again.  From a different perspective this time.

And just so we’re clear – if she messes with my boy, I’ll come for her.  And it won’t be that hard to either.  I will already know her name, her age, as well as where she lives…..

 Grant and I all dolled up for my Matric Farewell.  I was 17 and Grant was 21.

 

 

Official Matric Farewell pic - I must apologise for the shoes - I am so not a white court shoe type of gal

 

 

 

Me and my hottie date (even sorrier about the white stockings)