Monday, March 7, 2011
My First Love - Day 3
My first boyfriend. John. John. John.
He was 8 years older than I was. I met him when I was 15. I wasn't allowed to date him though. I lied about his age and told my parents he was 20. I met him on the south side of the Huntington Beach Pier. He was a surfer. Long hair. Tall. Talkative. Told me I had a killer body. He also told me I looked 19. Do me. Older guy, young and rebellious girl.
Thing with him, he was too experienced for me. And he played me well. I couldnt date him. I didnt want to lie to my parents and sneak around.
About a month before my 17th birthday, I called him. And we got together. He was the same. And I could date him now. I had a decent relationship with my parents and was mature-er and had good boundaries and trust. However, he did not. He was very seductive and very manipulative. And my mature-ness didn't understand that control and love are not the same. I wasnt even out of high school and was doing whatever this guy said. Wait. I was a bit on the wild side he wanted to squish that so I wouldn't find fun else where. He was able to shut me out from all of my friends lives and keep me at arms distance from my family. I wasnt close to anyone but him.
I had a fake ID at 17, so we were able to go to bars, and Vegas and party like crazy. Cocaine was haute and who isnt super cool all coked up at 17? I was. (cringe) We went through about 2 years of weekend binging. After a long weekend in Vegas of hallucinating from being awake for 3 days, I quit. Never touched it again and havent since. But we still drank. In fact, we would drink and fight. Fight over what a shitty boyfriend he was.
I lived in fear. He would tell me 'do as I say, not as I do.' I was told I was nothing without him. I would never get anywhere in life without him. And I thought it was true. And then he left for a weekend. And I broke free and went out. And I was like a starving animal. I met an insanely handsome foreign man. And that weekend, He swept me off my feet. And he was sweet and gentle and kind and loving and giving. He took nothing. And I loved not feeling fear. I felt free.
I broke up with John when he returned. And he said it was my loss. Three days later he called me, afraid. He couldnt believe that I hadnt called him. He cried and promised me all things he was doing would change. That is what we fought about all the time was my freedom to just be and be able to love him. All those years he accused me of cheating on him, which I suspected was his own guilt of cheating on me. I told him I met someone else and I finally did what he accused me of. And I didnt care.
He talked me back in to being with him. And I believed. But this time, I had the upper hand. And when he would turn back into the guy he really was, I had the anger too. I went through 2 1/2 more years with this guy. He was never emotionally available. He would never commit to me. He would never give to me. And the last time I talked to him, he was still in the same place.
My first love taught me what love wasnt. And it taught me how to know what I didnt want. 5 years. I had to learn to not be in a relationship with John.
My fist love sucked.