My First B...

I have decided to blog and have no idea why except that today I feel like telling a story. Whether or not it is worth reading, I guess you will have to be the judge of that. Someone asked me today if I was missing high school - let me just start by telling you I am about to be in my mid 30's, graduated high school in 1990, have my starter marriage behind me and on to number 2, and have children. My answer is that I do not miss high school, though I was blonde with boobs and had a rocking good time. I do not miss the fact that it was the late 80's and my parents were yuppy party animals that left their children to their own devices night after night. I do not miss that because I did not have any supervision, I made really bad choices. I remember the night it all began for me. I was in 8th grade and we had recently moved to Colorado. My parents were out and the phone rang. This was back in the day when there was really only one phone in the house. It was teenage boys prank calling, they tormented and scared the shit out of me and my little brother. I made an unconcious decision at that point to not be in that house at night anymore and to become a force unto myself. It took a year for that to fully develop, but once it did, I was hell on wheels. But this is jumping into the middle and I am not finished with the introduction.

So in honor of my first blog, I thought I would talk about my first boyfriend, which is what has me in a melancholy type of mood today. Dreams are interesting things. They either mean nothing or everything. I am in the process of determining which is true in the case of last night's vision. What is it about your first boyfriend that makes you starry eyed and ridiculous? Why is it that he is the boy that you have those annoying cat and mouse conversations that lack complete and total honesty? Why is he the boy that, when your life has completely come down around you, shows up and is who you need at that exact moment to be ok and then disappears as fast. Did I send him away or was he broken in some way that prevented him from staying or am I obnoxiously arrogant to think that he holds me in the same place that I hold him? (And before you get weirded out, we have stayed in touch off and on as adults.) As asked in the movie Sweet Home Alabama, do you really find your soul mate at 10, or in my case 13? I miss him.