Plinky Prompts

Love is a Many Splendor Thing, Unless You're Young


Ah, young love.

Which is really slang for "impulsive, stupid and possessing the ability to obsess over another human being to the point that one becomes irrational and borderline unstable."

Not that I'm speaking from experience, mind you. *ahem*

I've been in love twice, er, three times … no wait, one time wasn't love, it was lust, so I guess only twice.

I think.

That answers the question, right?

Okay fine, twist my arm. Here's the story …

The first time I was a senior in high school. I fell hard for this skinny dude who worked as a manager at the local hot spot – the skating rink. (Not that I really skated, mind you. I put on skates and then just embraced the wall because I couldn't skate to save my life. Not to mention, falling and cracking one's skull is not exactly sexy, though definitely a way to get noticed, I guess). He had a truck and a cherry red Camaro and was a wee bit shorter than I was, even when he wore his cowboy boots.

He was a regular cruiser (that's what we did for entertainment back in the '80's, which dates me but whatever) and was considered hot property.

Which of course only made him challenging because if I could date him? Then I was the IT girl, you know?

I nabbed him and we dated. I was QUEEN of the drag strip. And I honestly thought I loved him even though he treated me like crap, and I knew it, but I was willing to put up with his attitude because DUDE, all of the other girls envied me. ME!

I remember acting really pathetic in that "relationship." I followed him around, in fact, some might say I stalked him. (Though that could never be proven). And it was during one of those, erhm, "just happened to be in the same part of town as him" episodes that I discovered, I wasn't his only girlfriend. He was hanging out with some other chick, from a different school and you would have had to torture me at the time to admit it at the time but that I can freely admit now, was much prettier than me.

Side note: Me and this girl ended up working at the same bank years later (small world) and I was quite surprised to learn, she was actually nice and I actually liked her. Which was shocking considering I hated her for YEARS.

I was heartbroken. I mean, CRUSHED. I had put my heart on display and not only had this boy smashed it into a million little pieces, he put an ad in the paper and invited everyone who was anyone (in my small, self-imposed world) to come by and ridicule my vulnerability.

I went into self-preservation mode. I built a wall and I never again allowed a boy/man anywhere close to that wall. I had relationships, but I was the one in control. I was the one who did the dumping. And I didn't get hurt.

And then years later I met my husband. I started my career at the bank as a lobby teller, he was a drive-thru teller and we immediately hit it off. I knew, at once, that he was different. I knew, at once, that he was someone I could fall in love with.

Lucky for me, he felt the same way about me.

I've been married to this man for over 20 years now. And looking back on that first "love" I can see now that I didn't really love that skinny skating rink manager but rather I loved his popularity and did I mention he had a hot cherry red Camaro?

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