To The Boy I Loved at 16,
To the Boy I loved at 16,
Today, April 8, thirty-one years ago, we had our first date. It is actually a day that changed my life forever. The date itself was not anything special, although looking back, I think it might have been my first real date. The guy before you, he who shall not be named, didn’t do dates. You picked me up, and we went to shoot pool. I got a good laugh about that. I had no clue how to shoot pool, NONE. It was a small pool hall, kind of dark, a little dank, and back then smell of cigarette smoke.
It did have a jukebox. Do you remember? I played Simple Man; what I thought was playing was common man. You looked at me like I was crazy and said something to the effect that we were going to get our asses kicked because of my song choice. I just laughed about it. I think that maybe when you really started to like me. Nah, it was the boobs, it was always the boobs. We played a few games of pool and left.
We went through a McDonald’s drive-through and ordered some food, and hit up a gas station and got some candy. I cannot remember what I got, but I do remember you getting airheads. We ate our lunch, and you took me home. That was the extent of our first date.
You had to work that night, at Rally’s. When you went on break, you called me from (GASP) the payphone out front. We talked for a few minutes. You asked if I had a boyfriend, and I said no (a stalker doesn’t count). I asked if you had a girlfriend, and you said no. Then you asked if I wanted to be your girlfriend. I said yes. I think you said no way, really. It was all very mature. I figure all high school love affairs back then were.
We did all the high school things together, your senior prom, my senior prom, movie dates, dinner dates, and just hanging out. We even skipped school a few times. There was also the one time we got caught making out by the cop at the baseball park, and he knocked on the door with his mag light flashlight. I made sure you graduated on time, and you totaled my car on the way to your graduation. You broke my heart twice during my senior year over the same girl. I thought I would die from that pain. We ended up back together. I graduated from high school.
You made switching schools halfway through my sophomore year bearable. I will also credit you with helping me survive living at home those last few years. Weird and unusual were terms used to describe you back then; to me, it was always cute and enduring, usually making me laugh. There was always laughter.
I remember the exact moment I knew, I mean, I really knew that I loved you or was in love with you (for a teenage girl). We were driving back from St, Augustine, well, you were the one who was driving. It had been a good day, just kind of walking around. We headed back to my house and were driving down a two-lane highway. It was dusk, I think it was in October of 1995. The sun was shining through the trees, and I looked over at you and just looked at you for a minute. You must have noticed and looked over me and smiled. I knew it then. I knew at that moment that it was real love. You knew about my family and didn’t care; you knew some things about me (not so good things) and didn’t care. Here you were still wanting to be with me, spend time with me, and talk to me every night on the phone. (The whole you hang up, no you hang up, no you hang up first, no you hang up first routine.)
I had believed I had loved someone before you (that is a story/letter for another time). It was not like this. You then turned into the man I married, my husband, the father of my child, and in the end, the man who broke me. Yet today I am choosing to remember the boy I loved at 16. He deserves to be remembered. My high school sweetheart was one for the books. I can admit that even through all the things that came next. The things that came next are important, but remembering the boy is, too.
So, to the boy I loved at 16, thank you for that first real date, thank you for all the high school memories, and thank you for all the gushing ooey gooey feelings. Oh, and for the PDA in the hallways. Thank you for letting me love you and for loving me back then, too.
Okay, Love You Bye
