The First.
Tuesday, 12. May 2009, 10:46:00
I don't really know how to explain this.
My first love came about when I was 17. His name was Eric, he was 19. He lived in Bedford, Ohio. And we met on myspace. So typical right? Anyway myspace merely served as a connection to exchange numbers. We talked a lot on the phone. So much to the point that when we actually met and went on a "proper" date, both of us were awkwardly catching glances rather than looking at each other when we spoke. He reminded me of someone. I felt I knew him from somewhere before.
Anyway we played pool at some smokey run-down bar near his house, then went back to his place for drinks. We didn't really drink much. He mostly played his guitar for me as I suffered through a warm Bush lite. When he finally put his guitar away, he held me as we watched Sin City. I giggled because he was so similar to Jackie boy. His hair, his voice, his cocky attitude -all reminiscent so much of that character- so I deduced that it was because of Sin City, that I felt I knew him. He was so much braver than me. He kissed me and I honestly didn't see it coming. I tasted the smoke on his breath and felt the low rumble of his voice warming my chest as he let out a sigh of content. It felt right. Us together felt right.
As we progressed in our relationship, we became mad-in-love. We came to love each other as much as we hated each other. One week everything would be heaven and spending 2 hours doing nothing but sleeping in the same bed, became a cure for anything I felt was wrong in my life -he extended the same sentiment. Then something stupid would happen. I'd forget we were on a "date" and end up talking to a friend working at CVS a little too long, and he'd walk out. Eric, as possessive and protective as he was, always wanted my attention in the worst way when it was -our- time (since our schedules conflicted often). Thinking back on it now, I wish I hadn't done it. I wish I only said hi to my friend at CVS instead of chewing her ear off about school and my week for 1/2 hour and leaving Eric waiting in the car.
But we were both going to destruct. The drama and fighting became increasingly prevalent. We'd make up, and everything seemed to be okay again. Then everything would be great again. Then everything would be heaven again. and WHAM. A little argument would slip out and the whole thing crashed and burned all over.
Eventually fate decided it was time to quit this. We left each other at only a slightly angry time -thinking maybe the other one would apologize and come back. And neither of us did.
For a while we just didn't speak after that. Both of us were too bull-headed to admit we were wrong or rather admit we really needed each other. So it went.
Years passed, more boyfriends came and went. And yet, I spoke to Eric through instant messenger one day when I was lonely at Ball State. We exchanged what was going on in our lives. He was still in bedford, working his way through life, and I was miserable going to school (doing the 'right' thing). We teased each other imagining that decades later, I'd be a married trophy wife to some millionaire, and he would be the landscaper who would seduce me early in the afternoon before hubby got home.
That was the last time I remember talking with Eric.
Today was lonely. I was locked in my room doing my project for 3d, and it was lonely. I felt this force, this thing reminding me of Eric. I don't know why, but I searched for Eric on myspace even though I had deleted my account after Nick sent me over the edge. I found his familiar page. I saw his face. I scrolled down and saw his comments.
His goodbye comments.
His friends
His brothers
Everyone.
Said goodbye.
And I don't know why, how, or when it happened.
Recently from what I gathered. Between August and September of 2008.
I emailed Sara. His close childhood friend with whom I shared a warm Bush lite with one day. She and I shot each other sarcastic looks as Eric and her brother yelped and hollered at a football game on T.V. That was the first and last time I saw her.
It's hard because I don't know how I should be feeling. I found Eric on myspace, we dated because of myspace, and now I had to find out on myspace that Eric died. The mystery surrounding his death is eating away at me. I want to know what happened. I want to know what he was doing. Who he was with. What street he was on. If he thought about me.
Because I will always remember him. I will always remember that he was my first love, my first love in bed, my first fighting boyfriend who would kick anyone's ass who even looked at me, my first boyfriend who took me on random shopping sprees at the mall because he felt like spending his whole paycheck in a big grandiose way. I will always remember his guitar riff that was going to rock the world if only he could finish the rest of the song. I will always remember the taste of his smokey breath. And I will always remember how he would laugh when he smoked around me because I made a scrunchy face from the smell. I will always remember how he liked to fish. And how he would constantly try to drag me out fishing, but we never did. I'll remember how excited he was when he finally bought his own car with his hard earned money. How he seemed to be smiling from the inside when he looked at me. I'll remember my failed attempts at fixing the zippers on his broken hoodies and giving up because I concluded it looked cuter open. I'll always remember that his friends called him "rock lobster" and laughing even though I didn't get it.
I just hate to also remember him this way now.
My first love came about when I was 17. His name was Eric, he was 19. He lived in Bedford, Ohio. And we met on myspace. So typical right? Anyway myspace merely served as a connection to exchange numbers. We talked a lot on the phone. So much to the point that when we actually met and went on a "proper" date, both of us were awkwardly catching glances rather than looking at each other when we spoke. He reminded me of someone. I felt I knew him from somewhere before.
Anyway we played pool at some smokey run-down bar near his house, then went back to his place for drinks. We didn't really drink much. He mostly played his guitar for me as I suffered through a warm Bush lite. When he finally put his guitar away, he held me as we watched Sin City. I giggled because he was so similar to Jackie boy. His hair, his voice, his cocky attitude -all reminiscent so much of that character- so I deduced that it was because of Sin City, that I felt I knew him. He was so much braver than me. He kissed me and I honestly didn't see it coming. I tasted the smoke on his breath and felt the low rumble of his voice warming my chest as he let out a sigh of content. It felt right. Us together felt right.
As we progressed in our relationship, we became mad-in-love. We came to love each other as much as we hated each other. One week everything would be heaven and spending 2 hours doing nothing but sleeping in the same bed, became a cure for anything I felt was wrong in my life -he extended the same sentiment. Then something stupid would happen. I'd forget we were on a "date" and end up talking to a friend working at CVS a little too long, and he'd walk out. Eric, as possessive and protective as he was, always wanted my attention in the worst way when it was -our- time (since our schedules conflicted often). Thinking back on it now, I wish I hadn't done it. I wish I only said hi to my friend at CVS instead of chewing her ear off about school and my week for 1/2 hour and leaving Eric waiting in the car.
But we were both going to destruct. The drama and fighting became increasingly prevalent. We'd make up, and everything seemed to be okay again. Then everything would be great again. Then everything would be heaven again. and WHAM. A little argument would slip out and the whole thing crashed and burned all over.
Eventually fate decided it was time to quit this. We left each other at only a slightly angry time -thinking maybe the other one would apologize and come back. And neither of us did.
For a while we just didn't speak after that. Both of us were too bull-headed to admit we were wrong or rather admit we really needed each other. So it went.
Years passed, more boyfriends came and went. And yet, I spoke to Eric through instant messenger one day when I was lonely at Ball State. We exchanged what was going on in our lives. He was still in bedford, working his way through life, and I was miserable going to school (doing the 'right' thing). We teased each other imagining that decades later, I'd be a married trophy wife to some millionaire, and he would be the landscaper who would seduce me early in the afternoon before hubby got home.
That was the last time I remember talking with Eric.
Today was lonely. I was locked in my room doing my project for 3d, and it was lonely. I felt this force, this thing reminding me of Eric. I don't know why, but I searched for Eric on myspace even though I had deleted my account after Nick sent me over the edge. I found his familiar page. I saw his face. I scrolled down and saw his comments.
His goodbye comments.
His friends
His brothers
Everyone.
Said goodbye.
And I don't know why, how, or when it happened.
Recently from what I gathered. Between August and September of 2008.
I emailed Sara. His close childhood friend with whom I shared a warm Bush lite with one day. She and I shot each other sarcastic looks as Eric and her brother yelped and hollered at a football game on T.V. That was the first and last time I saw her.
It's hard because I don't know how I should be feeling. I found Eric on myspace, we dated because of myspace, and now I had to find out on myspace that Eric died. The mystery surrounding his death is eating away at me. I want to know what happened. I want to know what he was doing. Who he was with. What street he was on. If he thought about me.
Because I will always remember him. I will always remember that he was my first love, my first love in bed, my first fighting boyfriend who would kick anyone's ass who even looked at me, my first boyfriend who took me on random shopping sprees at the mall because he felt like spending his whole paycheck in a big grandiose way. I will always remember his guitar riff that was going to rock the world if only he could finish the rest of the song. I will always remember the taste of his smokey breath. And I will always remember how he would laugh when he smoked around me because I made a scrunchy face from the smell. I will always remember how he liked to fish. And how he would constantly try to drag me out fishing, but we never did. I'll remember how excited he was when he finally bought his own car with his hard earned money. How he seemed to be smiling from the inside when he looked at me. I'll remember my failed attempts at fixing the zippers on his broken hoodies and giving up because I concluded it looked cuter open. I'll always remember that his friends called him "rock lobster" and laughing even though I didn't get it.
I just hate to also remember him this way now.
WIDGETIZE