First Love 2.0

I met my first real boyfriend when I was fifteen in driver’s ed.  We crushed on each other and started off by signing up to do our drives together with the same instructor.  We dated for several months.  We had mad chemistry.  MAD.  Ya know, the kind where whenever you’re alone you can’t keep your hands off each other and you can be alone for hours.  Yep.  That kind.  Now, get your mind out of the gutter – we were still virgins when the relationship ended.  But, ohhh, how truly amazing it was.

Things with him were wonderful, but we broke up because of life circumstances.  I ended the relationship because it was impossible to see him, and trying was making my life much more challenging.  Strike one down in the loss column for love.

He was the first guy I loved.  He was a kind-heartened, artistic teen who grew into a sexy, caring, and kind man.

I know this because throughout the years I kept up with him.  I never forgot him.  Fairly or not, I looked him up when my college boyfriend and I ended our relationship.  We talked, but he was in school out-of-state.  At one point we connected on Facebook.  When my marriage was ending, I peeped in on him because - let’s all be honest - it makes you wonder what happened to your previous loves.  He had gotten married the year or so before.  I observed him from afar, happy for his happiness.

Fast forward a few years.  I’m divorced, hawking my wares, er, well, myself on online dating platforms.  I go swiping left and right, as though you really having anything to actually go on, and – WAIT!  Here’s this tall, cute, 40 year-old bloke, who looks quite familiar.  Hmmm.  There were only user names – no real ones – but I knew it was him, though I was thrown by the knowledge that he was married.  I ‘liked’ and went on about my day.

He sent me a message and we started chatting.  He would chat and then disappear, then chat some more.  As it turned out he was separated and commuting between two cities. 

We agreed to get together the next time he was back in town.  I suggested a coffee to catch up.  He countered with Friday night dinner – prime time date time, and one that allows for a quick follow-up if it’s so desired.  This was positive. 

We met at a Thai place he picked.  The food was good.  I kept having wardrobe malfunctions due to an unfortunate body suit / bra pairing. The conversation flowed easily.  It was comfortable catching up with him and we closed down the restaurant. 

As we stood on the sidewalk outside the locked door he nonchalantly suggested going to one of our previous haunts to make out.  I said, “Didn’t we already do that?”  He said, “Yeah, we did,” with a huge grin. 

I invited him over for a drink.  As we sat on my couch sipping tea with a whole cushion between up he stood up, took a clear sideways stride and sat back down, right next to me. 

Remember that MAD chemistry?  Yep.  Still there.  Making out like hungry teens at 40?  Really, really not overrated.  

Mind. Gutter. Out.  We still have never had sex together.  I really wanted to, but I wasn’t quite ready to pick up where we left off across the ensuing years, and I wasn’t sure what to think of his pending divorce which I had just learned about in much more detail.  He clearly cared for her and I didn’t want to be a fling.

How did our story end, you wonder?  With me getting ghosted. 

How?  Well.  We mugged hard on the couch.  We moved it to the bedroom.  We kissed and caressed and got re-acquainted, but that unfortunate body suit remained in place, as did his under clothing.  It felt amazing to be kissed and touched that way.  We spent the night tangled with each other and he woke me in the morning with a soft kiss. 

We spent the morning cuddling and kissing, but eventually he had to go tend to some business.  We parted with a passionate kiss at the door.  I didn’t hear from him over the next several days.  I had, in truth, turned him down for sex, so I reached out to him.  I told him that I was interested in spending more time with him, and wanted to get to know him better.

He never responded.  He disconnected on Facebook.  He disappeared from the dating app.

Mad chemistry. Ghosted. Yep.  Those words do, in fact, go together.  Maybe he felt a little rejected, although it didn’t seem to dash our attraction at the time.  Maybe his situation changed and he and his wife are trying again. Maybe it’s poetic justice of some sort.  I put the loss in the love column all those years ago, and maybe it’s wrong to try to slide it over.  

But it felt so, so right to be kissed like that….