For this one we are going to go back...way back...back to SHUDDER...high school.
As much as I may have had "IT" while during and post college, I had not quite found IT in high school. In fact, I was quite the late bloomer and although I'd had my crushes and the like, when I entered high school, I'd never had a boyfriend. And as we all know, at that impressionable time in your life, life is not quite complete unless you can say you have a boyfriend.
Enter Ronnie. I can't be bothered to give this guy a nickname, because I don't remember enough about him to give him an appropriate one. Besides, it took enough energy to just remember his first name. Oh the funny way your mind blocks certain things from your memory. So, we'll just go with Ronnie, I'm pretty sure that was his name. I think. Uh...yeah...
Ronnie was a neighborhood boy, a few years older than I, who also went to my high school. But, while I was an honor student, in the upper level classes, somewhat of a cross between a geek and a nerd, he was none of those things. He was one of the "smokers". The long haired, ripped jeaned, D-average, smoking behind the school building variety. I'd like to tell you that he was cool in a James Dean kind of way, and I was attracted to his "rebel without a cause" alure. I'd like to, but then I'd be lying. To put it bluntly, he was just kind of a loser. But he was also one of the first boys to really show me any attention, and I think at that point (in my sophomore year)it was more important to have a boyfriend, then to have a "good" boyfriend. So I let him walk me home from the bus stop, and I let him call me his girlfriend, and walk me to class. For a short while, it was kind of cool. I had one of the bad boys as my boyfriend. Look at me, I'm a rebel. Yeah.
That was, until he kissed me.
Picture this: I've never been kissed, and as a young girl, I've got visions of romance, and skin tingling chemistry. He's going to kiss me, and I'm going to swoon with the romance of it all.
Let me set the scene for you. My backyard, behind the garage, away from any of the house windows. Leaning up against an abandoned car that has been parked there as long as I've lived in that house. He says "I want to kiss you". I, quite nervously, say "Okay". He leans in, I close my eyes, and ...
...holy shit I'm being swallowed whole. Suddenly he's all over me, hands everywhere, mouth wide open and I'm not sure whether I should push him off gently or knee him in the groin. Eventually the "kiss" or whatever you want to call what just happened, is over, and he's smiling at me like he just gave me the prize of a lifetime. This was my first introduction into the knowledge that men and women, boys and girls, are truly two different species. AND he tasted like cigarrettes - the first and last smoker I ever kissed.
Needless to say, after this event, I was in no hurry to indulge in kissing activities with him again. Within days, however, I had the perfect out. I was informed by another girl that she too was being told by Ronnie that she was his girlfriend. I informed her that he was all hers, and told him thanks, but no thanks. Another first. The first, but certainly not the last time I would be "cheated" on. Or more accurately, that I would, unbenknownst to me, be the other woman. Because she was his girlfriend before I was.
For obvious reasons, I don't reflect back on my first kiss very often, and in fact, had done a pretty good job of blocking the memory from my mind until I dug it out for your reading pleasure here. THIS is how much I give of myself to you, dear readers.
But wait, there's more. Because Ronnie and I had no classes in common, no friends in common, in fact, no interests in common, it wasn't too hard to remove him from my life. For the first few weeks, he attempted to convince me to give him another chance, stopping by my house, dropping by my classes, etc. But eventually, he moved on. Although he only lived about 10 houses away from me, I stopped seeing him around.
About a year or so later I was working at an internationally known burger joint. Minding my own business working the drive-through window, when I hear someone say my name. Ronnie is in the restaurant, and wants to talk to me. Thinking it would be harmless to catch up with an old boyfriend, I take my break, and sit with him for a few minutes. And I seal my fate. For the next few weeks everytime I was working, Ronnie would show up at the restaurant wanting to talk to me. In fact, friends and coworkers said he was there on days I wasn't working as well, asking if i was coming in. He wouldn't leave until I paid attention to him, and the one time I told him I didn't want him coming around anymore, I remember he didn't react well. My manager actually had to ask him to leave. It got to the point where my coworkers would warn me if he was coming, and I would hide out in the back room, while they told him I wasn't working that day. Eventually, I employed the aid of a group of guy friends from highschool (about 80% of our soccer team, in fact) to hang out at the restaurant until he showed up, and threaten to beat the crap out of him if he didn't leave me alone. Luckily for me, Ronnie hadn't risen to professional level stalkerism yet, and this threat was sufficient. I never did see him again.
I drive by his old house weekly, as it is on the way to my parents' home, and once in a while I wonder about him and how he turned out as an adult.
And after the whole "Mr. Vain" thing last week, I can't help but wonder what it was about me that attracted guys that I look back on now and cringe..."What was I thinking, and boy, did I dodge that bullet".
Is it any wonder I don't date now?