Dear First Love,
I guess I should start by saying that this isn’t hate mail. It’s nothing of the sort. If you do ever happen to read this, just know that it’s simply a letter for everyone with a first love; hopefully, I’m not the only one that feels as though it’s something worth writing about.
In my mind, we had a fairytale romance. Coming over, falling asleep together, and getting ice-cream while singing in the car were dates that were nothing shy of perfect to me. As long as I was with you, it didn’t really matter if we were getting dinner in Boston or eating Papa Gino’s in our sweatpants.
We aren’t together now; I think we both knew that it would never work from the beginning. But that didn’t really stop us. We talked about marriage, children, dreams. A wedding on the beach followed by two boys and a girl, to be exact. Sadly, we didn’t make it far enough to choose names. But, if I remember correctly, you were going to be a police officer and I a talk-show host. I am studying communications and you’re pre-law, now, so fingers crossed that those dreams come true.
All pipe dreams and hopeless romanticism aside, you helped me grow. I’m scared that if I had never met you, I wouldn’t know the first thing about love: how it works, what it actually means, what it feels like to be in it. Hell, maybe I still have no idea. But knowing and loving you gave me the fondest knowledge of love and its counterparts.
Looking back, I laugh to myself at all of the stupid, lovey dovey things I would say that I meant so deeply at the time. I’d like to think that I would never say things like that again at risk of sounding like a lovestruck middle schooler, but who knows.
When I drive through your town, I will always think I’m going to your house. At one point, on every holiday, I remember conquering my crazy family with you. When “If I Didn’t Have You” plays on the radio, I will forever think about us sitting on the park bench at Richardson's, hearing that song in the background while we had our last breakup.
One day, when I find another “somebody," I will make new memories and not have to dwell on old ones. I won’t have to turn around or think about past holidays because I’ll be living this one. And I certainly will not have to change the station. It’s so hard, though, you see, because it’s hard to get over a first love.
I haven’t been in love since you; I haven’t even had anything close. But don’t think that this is because I am still pining over you, or am thinking that one day you’ll come back. I haven’t been in love with anybody but you because you made me realize what I’m looking for. I’m picky as hell thanks to you.
Like when you didn’t let me have my freedom, I realized that I want a man who didn’t shelter me, but also cared enough about me to smother me. You set the bar pretty damn high, my friend.
That bumpy roller coaster that you and I rode on one too many times helped me learn more about myself and about the way love works than you could ever imagine, and for that I am endlessly grateful.
But I’ve definitely matured since “us.” I’m no longer naive, and I certainly know what I am looking for now. It’s safe to say that I am no longer in love with you, but nobody just forgets their first love.
