<p>To expound on my first love story, our parents were best friends and we both had a crush on either other at 10 years old. Our parents put us in roller skating classes together and we got really good and competed as partners until we were 13. Because of age differences (he was a year older), he got another partner and we went separate ways until high school where we got back together.</p>
<p>We became Gidget and Moondoggie until he graduated HS and moved away. We loved and adored one another and he spoiled me and put me on a pedestal. Our parents convinced us that we “needed to date around - we knew each other too well, were too much like brother and sister, etc.” I thought all guys were sweet, kind and wonderful. Well, I went off to college and met a guy who treated me like dirt under his feet and then married him! Needless to say, I’m not married to him anymore.</p>
<p>We had a 5 year relationship through HS and first year of college (for her, I was a couple of years older). We met again 30 years later. She is widowed and I am divorced. It’s been about 3 or 4 years now. We keep in touch and have dinner occassionally, but no sparks at this stage of life for some reason unknown to me.</p>
<p>Every time I start to reply to this thread (and it’s been several times), I can’t quite figure out how to compress so many memories (good and bad) into a short post. I get lost in those memories, many of which are not nostalgic reminiscences of the past, and finally figure out that I CAN’T tell the story with any depth at all. So a few key facts: My first real love was my HS sweetheart; we married when I was a Junior in college; we had a child (S1); we got divorced; she’s no longer living. But filling in all the stories behind each of those semicolons in the previous sentence is impossible.</p>
<p>On the happy side, I’ve been married to my current wife for almost 29 years, have had another child (S2), and somehow we’re still together.</p>
<p>If we’re not already embarrassing-enough parents, imagine any poor S’s and D’s who stumble onto THIS thread.
That sound you hear is a chorus of teenagers going</p>
<p>EEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!1111oneoneone</p>
<p>A.M.
oh, and the answer to the question is yes.</p>
<p>I haven’t been able to reply because I can’t decide who was my first love… meaning, at what level of ‘love’ was it mature enough to be defined as “first love?”</p>
<p>*“If we’re not already embarrassing-enough parents, imagine any poor S’s and D’s who stumble onto THIS thread.”
*</p>
<p>Reminds me of when we visited Carnegie-Mellon with my son and took him to the spot where I first asked his mother out. …I didn’t know eyes could roll up so high! :)</p>
<p>I remember when I was living in NYC with my first head-over-heels, feeling-is-mutual, grown-up love, and I was approached by a moonie or scientologist type on the street-- trying no doubt to drum up attendance at some intake event-- whose come-on line was, “Has anything really good happened to you in the last year?”</p>
<p>My reply “Yes! I fell in love!” absolutely stopped him in his tracks.</p>
<p>My first love and I met in hs (different high schools) and went to different colleges. We dated all the way through and 3 weeks after graduation we were married. We are approaching our 20th anniversary soon.</p>
<p>Digmedia, nice to see a fellow Tartan on board here.</p>
<p>I used to get told all the time in high school that I would find “someone new” in college. Now people are telling me that I’ll probably “grow apart” from my girlfriend in graduate school.</p>
<p>They also said that my year in Japan would make an “impossible emotional distance” grow between us.</p>
<p>We were in different suburbs in hs so approx. 1 hr away by trains with connections. Our colleges were 8 hours apart ( the way H drove back in those days more like 6.5) and due to lack of funds and restrictions that his school put on their students, we would visit once or twice a month.</p>
<p>This was back in the days of writing letters not emails. Somewhere in our attic we have boxes and boxes of correspondence.</p>
<p>I read David McCullough’s biography of John Adams some time back, and I thought to myself how it’s both a shame and very very nice that I live in this electronic age.</p>
<p>It’s a shame, because we have no real “nostalgia” source. It’s nice, because nobody is going to be probing through my personal correspondence 100 years from now and publishing personal information of mine. :p</p>