Justin was my best friend's cousin, and when I was 7 years old, I fell hard. From the moment he held my hand at the skating rink, while Gangsta's Paradise blasted from the speakers, I knew we would be together forever. Our favorite "date" was when we would swing side by side, while we did our own rendition of Aladdin's & Jazmin's, A Whole New World. Though I also remember being perpetually upset with him, because I could never get him to do Aladdin's solo, he would just start the song over again after I did Jazmin's part. That and he picked & ate his own boogers. We did have a little marriage ceremony though, I definitely didn't wear white, and I don't ever remember getting divorced. I hope it wasn't legally binding, cause I'm not ready to be a bigamist (I don't look good in orange and pin-strips make my butt look big).
My first real relationship was when I was 13, it was fix-ups of sorts by a friend. On our first date, he was to pick me up after an art class I was taking in the park. When Gary came to pick me up, we found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a Jehovah's witness convention. I have nothing against the Jehovah's witnesses but do you know how utterly impossible it is to find someone you've never met in a crowd so big? WITHOUT CELLPHONES.
We finally met up, and went back to his place to watch a movie. I can't say it was very romantic, because every time I got anywhere near him, his cat threatened to take my face off. I was pretty fond of my face, so I kept my distance. To say Gary was one fry short of a happy meal, was an understatement. I am by no means a grammar snob, but sometimes I really wanted to sit him down and explain the difference between "which" & "witch". But he was kinda cute, pretty good to me, and I was in love with telling people I had a boyfriend.
So we coasted a long pretty happily until the day Gary (who had never uttered any kind of racist remark in my presence) told me he would become a member of the Ku Klux Klan, not because he was racist, but because it was a deep rooted family tradition. Yes, my boyfriend the grand pooh bah of the KKK, lets just say that was a definite DEAL BREAKER. So I told him I was moving to Siberia, and never called him again. I swear that just seems something that could only happen to me.
In my freshmen year of high school, I began a four year long relationship with my first love, Pj. He was a nerd, in a completely charming way. (Not like that boy on the Pick Up Artist who said he once grabbed a boob than ran away. ROFL). His favorite hobbies were watching anime and playing video games, and he was always trying to lure me to the dark side. But I liked sleeping and watching really bad reality TV. And this was in the dark ages before DVR, when I was still a slave to things like a TV schedule. Pfft. So if I were to play video games, I might miss the Real World. And that was during the Las Vegas season, and I was dedicated to finding out who Trishelle was going to sleep with each week.
Pj was one of the most caring and understanding men I've ever met. High school was a very difficult time for me. I was grappling with severe anxiety & depression, and there were so many nights he stayed on the phone with me hour after hour, as I just sobbed. He was a big reason I finally got help, and why I'm here today happy & healthy. The irony of it all is that as I got better, we drifted apart. I changed so the dynamic of our relationship changed. And right before I left for college, things got really rocky, and he stopped making time for me.
In an effort to make him realize how much he needed me, I broke up with him. Yes I was playing a game, but it blew up in my face when he didn't want to get back together. I knew logically that it was for the best, but that didn’t make it any less devastating. A broken heart is pretty abstract until it happens to you. For a long time I wished I hadn't met Pj, and felt like maybe I shouldn’t have slept with him. But I don't regret any of those things anymore, and when he crosses my mind I always smile. He served a purpose in my life, and I am very grateful for that.
Pj was my last serious relationship before Adam. But there was the guy I took a day trip down to New Orleans with, who left me wandering around Bourbon Street alone (can't you just hear the world's tiniest violin playing my heart bleeds for you?). Next there was the guy who worked at IHOP, who was so cute I could barely find the words to order a short stack. And once I was sure a guy friend was about to ask me out, until one day he called me up to see if my friend was single. OUCH.
All these guys combined make me so grateful for what I have now.
365 days ago (give or take):
I'm thinking you want to trust me with your son, HELLO! Must I list all one million contrived reasons you shouldn't do this?
My thoughts on having children. I still don't know where I stand on that.