A Love Long Gone

Post #200...

I didn't quite have a Valentine's day post. So let me be the first to wish you Happy Valentine's Day this fine afternoon. (I am oh so late). Here, have a rose, from me to you!!

Anyway, for my IJWG meeting this month, we had an assignment where many of the questions focused on love- what we thought about love, things and people that we love, things we love about ourself, things we've done in the name of love, etc.

One question in particular struck me:

Do you recall your first love? (Share something about this love experience.)

What I wrote garnered many giggles from my book club sistas. I think they see me as a bit straight-laced, and they find out little things about me in these meetings... Things that make them say... The Oldgirl has had a past!! LOL!!

But I thought I would share what I wrote about my first love experience with the blog fam.

I know it will make you laugh.

And I hope it will make you think.

The Oldgirl's First Love Experience

I fell in love for the first time at the age of 17 with a boy named Eli. He was 19 at the time. We went to highschool together, and he was in my homeroom. But there was never any interest there at the time.

When we saw each other again, I was 17, and in my sophmore year of college. I ran into him at the Burger King in Union City. He was working the drive-thru and I vaguely remembered him when he said "Hello, remember me?" Anyway, we exchanged numbers and we started talking on the phone. We then started going out.

I don't remember the point that I knew that I was in love with Eli. We spent a lot of time together. He was the first man that I ever spent an entire night with. He was the best lover I would have for years to come. He was very attentive. He would pick me up from the Lakewood train station everyday after I got out of school in his maroon Ford Escort. He always had my favorite song playing on the cassette player- Salt-N-Pepa's I Desire. And he would always have an ice cold bottle of Pineapple Coconut Champale Cooler ready for me. Those were the good ol' days.

We were together for 3 years. I had a few infidelity issues, where I would run around on him.

I do remember when I knew that we would have to break-up, though. He had a problem with me spending so much time at school. He had a bad problem with my aspirations for graduate school. There was no way that I was going to stay with a man who couldn't really "see" beyond his working at Burger King or who couldn't supprot my careet goals.

We broke up in December 1990, when I was 20 years old. It took me two long years to get over him. It was one of the most painful times of my life.

Some years later, when I was 26 years old and living in Grant Park, he showed up on my doorstep, and had the nerve to tell me that he still loved me. This freaked me out something terrible, because I lived alone, and had just gotten home from the store. I'd noticed a white van following me, and it was him. All I know, it felt good to stand on my front porch and look at him and have absolutely no feelings whatsoever for him.

I only had memories, and that was good enough for me.

Man oh man... that brought back some memories.

Now, what is interesting, in those 6 years that we'd been apart, Eli had been married three times and had four children. I was struggling through graduate school and was dating someone, who would turn out to be my future husband "OldBoy" (now ex-husband).

I called my mother because I knew that she and Eli were friends. (Man, I don't EVEN want to get over into what was up with that! Ya'll think I be getting upset about the situations between me and my mama now? Geez! Auntie J, I KNOW you are reading this and giggling right now, LOL).

I remember the convo my Mama and I had that day all too well!

"Hello?"
"Ma, I can't believe you told Eli where I stay!"
"Hunh?"
"Eli was following me around today, and he came to my place, and told me that he loved me," I huffed. "I can't believe that you told him where I stay. You know I live alone. I can't believe you did that!"
Ma sighed. "Lisa, I didn't tell him anything. You know I wouldn't do that. You know he is in collections. He knows how to find people."
"Well what am I suppose to do?"
"Don't worry about it. He don't like rejection. He probably won't be back around. I'll talk to him."
"Alright then, bye."

I then called my man "OldBoy", and cried on the phone to him. You gotta understand, I lived alone, and I just knew that I would be stalked. I didn't know what to do.

By the end of the day, "OldBoy" had Eli's name, place of employment, and address. I asked him how he got all of that and he told me not to worry about it. He and a friend discussed with me what I wanted to do about it. Let's just say "OldBoy" was very fond of guns and knives and was discussing with his equally eclectic friend just how they were going to run up on Eli. This freaked me out, as I had visions of myself being locked up for being an accessory to some... craziness. I told "OldBoy" to just forget about it. If I had anymore problems, I would let him know.

I was a nervous wreck, watching my back like crazy, for like, a good month. I think I even stayed with "OldBoy" for a week, just to calm my nerves.

I never heard from Eli again.

Anyway, what really bothered me was that this was my first experience with a man who had issues with my dreams and goals (and it wouldn't be my last), and it thoroughly confused me. And looking back, I was MUCH to young to be dealing with all that emotional ish. Much too young. And I must admit, that he almost convinced me not to go to grad school. ~sigh~

No, this wasn't a Valentine's day story or anything.

It was just something that made me think of love...

And the choices we must make regarding and/or in spite of that love.