How to Fall and Get Back Up

For this, I’m not entirely sure about the date. It was at least a week after Valentines Day, because I had gotten the flu. It sucked. But his mom brought me chicken and rice and a baby doll to hold. 

It’s that dance that nearly every couple does for weeks on end. Should I kiss them? Or wait for them to kiss me? What if they’re not ready? What if I’m not? And in reality, these are the dumbest thoughts to have. I knew that, so I told him in my most subtle (but still very obvious, because sometimes boys can be slow with these types of things) way that I had wanted to kiss him. So we talked about it. Next time we hang out. Next date. Blah blah blah…

I was fine waiting, really I was. But this boy… God, this boy. He made me feel things no other guy had. And I didn’t want to think any other guy could. He made my heart dance with just a single word. It was the early stages of love. 

That being said though, you have to remember (or imagine) the early stages of your first love. It’s awkward, right? And you have to think about every little move you make and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. (this idea is dumb. I’ve given up on it since then. *if they don’t like you for the stupid things you do, they aren’t worth it*). So no matter how much we talked about it, it never seemed to happen. He said he would do it. 

So I’m waiting, and waiting and…. You know, waiting. Then after I got over the flu, I went over to his house. We watched a movie and laughed and ate and talked about really dumb things (<3) and then my dad came to pick me up.

He walked me to the door as he always did. And I swear on my life, I thought he was going to kiss me as he leaned in closer to me. But he just gave me my usual hug. I frowned inwardly and began to walk away.

Then I stopped, turned around and said “Wait. Screw it.” And I walked swiftly over to him and planted a kiss on his lips. 

It was nothing special. Just a kiss. I’d had plenty of kisses before this. But this was his first kiss. And something about the way his lips felt against mine made my stomach do a cartwheel. I smiled and walked outside-

-where I quickly bent over, clutching my stomach, still out of view from my dad. I felt dizzy and nauseous and thought “Damn. This stupid flu won’t go away.”  But then it passed and my heart fluttered and my cheeks felt warm (not feverish). It was the weirdest feeling ever, but I smiled then, knowing that I’d get to feel like that every time I kissed that boy. 

December 26th, 2008: “The first date”

I had known him for over two years. I remember the first day I saw him in my science class, deciding to focus on the back of his head rather than the teacher who had an immense fascination with dead things.  Weeks later a mutual friend introduced us. I was hooked almost immediately. I’m not going to get all “Twilight” on you. He was not my drug. I wasn’t forced to be around him. I wanted to be around him. Something about this shorter-than-average, quiet boy pulled me in and I wanted to be around him.

We passed notes and laughed and… I don’t even know. It was nice to have a real guy friend. Even though I had a huge crush on him, he liked my friend, so I took what I got. The next year, I came back, glasses gone and hair cut and dyed. But he still didn’t seem to notice me in that way. Our groups of friends grew and intertwined and we spent a lot of time together and grew even closer. Even so, I am a woman, so I became inpatient and looked elsewhere. I dated a friend of mine and that did not work out.  And also another boy, two years older than me. (Not my best choice in boys, mind you). 

The next year rolled around and it was nearly Christmas break. This was when Facebook was just starting to get big. He finally got one and we were constantly talking. We exchanged numbers and began texting as well. We talked about the dumbest things. I remember the time, three nights before Christmas, we stayed up until nearly six in the morning. I was writing song lyrics on my mirrored closet door and he gave me song suggestions. We talked about his brother, and laundry, and my mother, and the Spring, and a million other little things that could seem entirely unimportant. But they made me happy. And happy was something I hadn’t been in a long time. 

The night after, he asked me to go out with him. Ohmygod. I’m thinking. Oh my fucking God. What will I wear? What will I say? This is my first real date. Of course, at the time, neither of us could drive so we got dropped off separately at the theater (so yeah, not really a real date). He was standing in line, waiting to buy tickets. For a moment or so, I stood off to the side of the line and watched him fiddle with the edges of his coat sleeves. I skipped over to him and bumped him slightly with my hip, as I tend to do to people still to this day.

He had the most nervous smile on his face when he turned to me. I swear to God, if I wasn’t blushing already, that sure as hell made me. We went and saw Valkyrie. I know. Romantic, right? But it didn’t matter what we saw. (Though that movie is awesome. If you haven’t seen it, do so now.) We talked awkwardly before the movie started and awkwardly bumped elbows throughout it. Then we awkwardly talked even more after the firm. 

 In case I didn’t make it obvious: It was awkward. 

But I loved every second of it. I went home that night feeling like butterflies were dancing around happily inside of me. (so cheesy. If I ever say anything like that again, hit me please). It was great, for both of us. Probably the best first date either of us could have asked for. I don’t know if either of us knew then that our first date was only the beginning of the rest of our lives. 

…. sort of.