Day 2- your first love, in great detail

My first love, at my best guess, was a boy named Justin in my junior year of high school. I say by my best guess because, when I think back, he’s the one I wonder “what if” about.

I knew him from Scott’s parties, and sort of from school. Scott was everbodys hero (and the first person I knew that was online during its infancy). He was in college, had his own apartment and hosted parties often. He even supplied the wine coolers (we were so badass). Scott was having a party in honor of my 17th birthday one Saturday night. I remember a chorus of guys singing “Sit on my face” and then dropping their pants. I was having fun, but I’d dumped guy I’d been dating, Jacob, and was still a bit torn about it. Justin was there, and had been one of the guys to drop trow. I was flirting with him. I’d always thought he was cute, and he was being awfully nice to me that night. Before I left, Justin took my class ring and gave me his.

I had to talk it over with Scott the next day, because I lacked confidence and still didn’t really think I had a chance with Justin (I know, DUH, right?). After I talked to Scott, I got a call from Justin, and that put two and two together, with many giggles.

Justin was the first guy with long hair that I ever dated. Long, straight, thick, light brown hair. He had the greatest smile in the world and the most infectious giggle. He dressed in the typical lazy teenager style of early 1992-jeans and t-shirts, topped by maybe a flannel shirt and a jacket, though a jacket does stand out more when I think of him. Justin and I together were probably sickeningly adorable. We held hands a lot, and kissed a lot (he was such a good kisser). We liked the same music, had the same views on life just like every other teenage couple, and both smoked. Yes, we were adorable. One thing I do remember was comfort in silence. You don’t get that with everyone, especially when you’re an awkward teenager.

Justin wanted to be a chef, so one night he invited me to dinner at his house. He was cooking. I remember chicken, and for some reason gnocci stands out to be but I really am not sure if that’s what he served. I sat with his family, or at least his father, and enjoyed the meal he cooked. He was so proud, I was so proud. The food was good, though it needed seasoning. I was a good girfriend though and didn’t ask for anyone to pass the salt.

Eventually, Jacob-who would become the father of Zach, came back into the picture. He was jealous, no doubt, especially because of the way Justin and I were put together. For some reason I felt such a draw to him. I can’t even explain it today, except I know it was something toxic. I started spending time with him. Justin was right to be angry about that. He gave me a kind of “its him or me” ultimatum. I continued to spend time with Jacob, and that was the end of what was Justin and me.

I’m in sort of touch with him on facebook. He’s married now, still lives in California, and is a cook at a restaurant, from what I understand. He moved far on from me faster than I ever moved on from him, and that’s good. He seems happy. That’s the nice part, right?

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