This kind of question was recently on Reddit, and I wanted to see some responses with less puns in them and more discussion. Therefore, Hubski, answer away!
i'd like to further this question by asking if anyone's first love went well
My first real relationship went extremely well. We fought a bit towards the end but mostly due to the stress of me leaving for college. We remain close friends today and we both have a habit of randomly confiding in each other about work, our current relationships, our dissatisfactions in life, etc. I trust his opinions and views on most everything. The first time I saw him after we broke up I couldn't shake the feelings that OftenBen described in his post. We would talk and be fine for a bit and then get hurt about one thing or another and stop talking for a while. It took a couple years before we could really talk and not be tippy-toeing around the pain. When we first met I was 15 and he was 22 and we worked together. We quickly became close friends and remained friends for 2 years before we accidentally had sex and decided not to wait anymore to try a relationship. We were so in love as friends that we knew it would end up that way but we wanted to wait until we were both more mature. He was coming out of his first real relationship (that lasted like 5 years I think) and we wanted to be solid. Sometimes we ask each other if we could have "made it" if we had waited until we were older or better but chances aren't great. I ended up in New York for 4 years and he stayed in LA and a lot changes in those years. I cherish the time we had together and glad I got to be in a relationship with him even if it didn't work out in the end. I have yet to find someone who is so similar in terms of goals, ratio of cuddling in bed vs partying hard, taste in movies and books, and general geekiness. One of our favorite dates was to go to Fry's on payday. I still find I can talk to him about anything and he's on the same page. It's surprisingly hard to find someone who you can just talk with for hours and hours and hours and days and years and still have the same respect for each other in the end. Even if we were both single now, we wouldn't work. We've both grown and changed too much and he's probably going to end up marrying the girl he's with now. But that's okay. He taught me a lot about love and hurt and the world and I wouldn't trade anything for those times.
hahaha. oh god. maybe at a meetup and a whiskey snuck under the table.
I'm doing this in 3 parts, Prom, Summer and The End. Here's Prom. Apologies for the text wall. Ok, a little backstory first. Let's call the girl Chantal, because that's her name. My parents and Chantal's parents had known each other for years, they went to the same church when my parents were growing up, they came to my parents wedding, they were at my baptism, my parents were at Chantal's, and a few years after my parents moved to a smaller branch of the same church, her parents eventually did too. Her family lived out in the country a ways and had a big lawn and horse pasture, and were always the ones hosting bonfires for the church kids, christmas parties, that kind of stuff. She actually went to my high school for a little while my freshman year (school of choice laws in Michigan being pretty lax) until she decided she didn't like the larger school. (I graduated with 190, she graduated with 85) Chantal and I had always been friendly, but my junior year of high school I started to be interested in her beyond just the 'Wow! She's hot!' kind of way. And she is HOT. She is about 5'7, light brunette and shapely, rode horses competitively, did a bunch of modeling for a teen style site, she was the best listener and confidant a teenage boy could ask for, and had a smile that made you want to be a better person. We started talking regularly on Facebook and text in the winter of my junior year, her senior year, nothing serious, just a sort of mutual journal/diary kind of thing. Fast forward to two weeks before my junior prom and we were talking on Facebook about my inability to decide who to ask to prom, who would say yes if I asked them, and she mentioned that she hadn't gone to any of her school dances because of drama with other girls, but she bought a dress for her senior homecoming she never wore. I finally grow a pair, after months of stressing, and ask her if she would go to my prom with me, as friends. She enthusiastically agrees, to the point that her mom mentioned to my mom later that she was smiling more just around the house. She sends me the color code for the dress and I match it to a tuxedo (Black suit, white shirt, Royal Blue vest, bowtie and cufflinks) and order a bouquet and corsage (White roses and Stargazer lilies, look it up) My best friend and I decided rather than try and tack on to an existing large prom party we would do just us and our dates. We make plans for dinner at the fanciest (At least most expensive) restaurant, and photos at the small park by the river that goes through town. A few days before the dance I drove over to her house to drop off something, I can't remember what, and she wasn't home, but her Dad was, and he sat me down, and told me that he respected me, and that he wouldn't have anyone else take his daughter to a dance, because he knew that I would respect her. Now, to the super self-conscious 16 year old OftenBen, that was a massive boost to my confidence. So, the day of the dance comes, the first beautiful saturday in late may, with a very slight rain early in the morning, so the whole world felt fresh. I woke up at 8, and had my Dad's Suburban (Which I was using for the dance) cleaned, inside and out, before 10 and picked up my bouquet and corsage, which I obsessively checked against my tux for color. I sat around until about 5 o clock and convinced myself I had to shower 2 hours before I had to pick her up, and now that I'm showered, I might as well put on my tux. I drive to pick her up, AC blasting to try and keep myself calm, and watch my speed so I get to her house exactly 5 minutes before I'm supposed to be there. I walk in with the bouquet and corsage, and her mom tells me to sit down, Chantal's still getting ready. I sit for what feels like an eternity, just talking to her mom about the restaurant we're going to for dinner, feeling like i'm about to get married, and her Dad calls down the stairs, “She's ready.” At this point, my heart is doing things an F1 engine would find impressive, and she walks down. Walk is really the wrong word. Most people walk, this girl... Glided. Her hair cascaded (Seriously, only applicable word) around her face, framing it like fine art, and her bare shoulders had that glow that people only get from hours and hours outside, not just tanning. The dress was royal blue, and strapless, a graceful waterfall that bundled between her bosom into a trio of rhinestone diamonds. I had planned on being speechless and managed to avoid cracking my voice when I just said “Hey! You look (pause) great!” We took a few pictures at her parents house and went to meet my best friend and his date for dinner. Not to brag, but I had the hotter date. We order an appetizer, something in the family of a bruschetta and then wayyy too much food. Really luckily Chantal and my friends date found a mutual interest in Bones, and did most of the talking during dinner, allaying my fears that with a small group we would just sit around awkwardly. My friend and I split the bill and we head to the park for pictures, and for some reason, that I can't explain to this day, it never occurred to me to put my arm around her for a single picture. The photos are nice, but thinking back, it would have been the simplest thing in the world. We go to the dance, which is held in the ballroom of a hotel by MSU, walk around a bit and chat with some of my friends and a few of hers that she got to know a bit when she went to my school, when one of my friends pulls me aside while the girls are comparing something about their shoes, and says “Dude, how did you get her? It's all anyone has been talking about since you guys got here, we thought you were making her up.” At that point my ego swells to bursting as I'm thinking “I finally showed these pretentious snots that OftenBen isn't just that kid with the heart condition, he's SOMEBODY.” Because that's what I thought being respected meant back then, having other people be jealous of your girlfriend/date. We start dancing, and it very quickly becomes quickly evident that neither of us are on this date as 'just friends.' Not to be too graphic about it, but the kids these days call it grinding. And whenever we go somewhere in the ballroom and attached areas for food, pictures or anything else, I notice that heads are turning as we go by, arm in arm, something I was completely ignorant of when we first arrived, and multiple guys take me aside to give me the same opinion that my first friend had “Dude, you're either lucky or the smoothest guy ever” or some variation thereof. Eventually midnight comes, and everyone files out and Chantal and I have to turn down a few invitations to after parties, because I said I would have her home by one. We stop and get hot chocolate from a 24/7 coffee shop on the way back to the car, my tux jacket around her shoulders, holding hands, and I drive her home, not wanting the night to end. It turns out her parent's weren't waiting up for us, so she changed out of her dress and we sat on her couch for a while, just talking about nothing, finishing our drinks. I had memorized some poetry, because I had heard once on Garrison Keillor that that was something a guy did for prom, but I sadly forgot it. I eventually walk to the door to leave, each step an exercise in willpower, and as I turn to leave, she takes my hand, kisses my cheek and says that she had a great time, and that if she had to only go to one dance in high school she was glad it was this one. I play it cool at the time, sweating buckets instantly, saying I did too, and that I'll text her when I get home. We hug and I get in my car, hanging my still perfumed tux coat on a hanger in the back, and I maintain my composure until the end of her driveway, when I let out something between a howl and a roar of excitement, and blast a mix cd I had made all the way home, windows down, singing at the top of my lungs. Edit* These are really therapeutic to write.
Part 2: Summer The school year came to a close a few weeks after Prom, and Chantal graduated high school, unsure of where she wanted to go to college. Her Grad party came, and went long into the night, for us kids anyway, sitting around the bonfire in shorts and sweatshirts in proper Michigan fashion. Chantal and I had agreed to just kind of keep things low key, and sat next to each other around the fire, snuck in a held hand here or there, that kind of thing. For her actual grad party she had a very T-Swift outfit, white spaghetti strap dress and cowboy boots with pony tail, and she had changed into shorts and one of my sweatshirts I had left over at her place. (Pretty explicitly for that purpose, It's an awesome feeling as a 16 year old to see a really hot girl wearing your hoodie) Around 1 when everyone was getting in their cars to leave, she came out with me to mine, and I held back a bit as everyone else headed down her ¾ mile driveway. We sat on the hood of my car for a bit, staring at the stars, and, total teenage romance move, I turned my head towards her, she turned towards me, hair falling across her face. I moved to brush it away and we kissed for the first time. I had a girlfriend before Chantal, and she was great, at first, but a terrible kisser, and a psycho too. Chantal was not a psycho, and didn't attempt to separate my lips from my face. We broke apart slowly, and kind of just looked at each other. I walked her back to her house and finally drove home, only to lay in bed pretty much until the sun came up just thinking about that moment in the field. That was pretty much our pattern for summer, bonfires, movies, cutesy picnic dates in a state park like an hour away, more than a few hours in the mall, just watching her try on outfits for her modeling gig, which I was totally fine with. She tried to teach me how to ride a horse, something that just never quite got the hang of. I like animals, a lot, but me and horses just don't gel. As far as teenagers go we fooled around a bit, but not as much as teenage OftenBen would have liked, or as far. But the real turn on for me was just how close we were, how effortless it all seemed. One day sticks in my mind, we had spent the better part of the afternoon at the state park, swam a bit, and had just laid on the small beach listening to the wind and the waves. She was having a bonfire that night so we got back and put the cases of pop cooling, ran into town for snacks, smores stuff, hamburger, and basically just felt like adults, doing all of this prep to have a few friends around. And she had only invited, without my knowing, only couples and one 'basically couple' like us, making it a 10 person, 5 couple thing. Honestly, I think that night I felt what being married is like. Sitting around a fire cracking bad jokes, eating smores and occasionally tickling your SO because hormones. People throw around the words 'contentment' and 'euphoria' but they can't feel better than I did that night. For once in my life, I felt like I had done everything right, that this is how things should be, as easy as breathing. We had a few more nights like this, and if my cardinal sin of the first post was not putting my arm around her in a pic, my major fault here, was never once asking her to be my girlfriend. If I had to guess, I would assume that I was afraid of messing up a good thing, that I just wanted to take that one feeling and keep it going for as long as I could. The thing too, about my time with Chantal, is that we never really fought. About anything. One of us would make a suggestion, we'd evaluate, and proceed. A conversation would go something like Me: “I'm working Saturday morning, I get off at 11, how does the lake sound?” Her: “Awesome! I'll pack lunch.” or Her: “So I'm going to Cincinnati for a horse show this week, we'll have to postpone dinner.” Me: “Ok, I'll move the reservation to Saturday, so you can get take a day to get the girls settled in and get some sleep.” We never got into any disagreement more serious than “Are you sure you want Salt & Vinegar chips?” I look at this period of my life as a very important lesson, after all, everyone has something they can teach you, and Chantal taught me how to be a good boyfriend, which I think is something a lot of guys tell themselves, but few can actually put words to it, few can really name things that they would do for their SO just because they enjoy doing it. Even looking back on it, I will forever reference the summer of 2009 as my explanation for why people say that high school is some of the best years of your life. It wasn't, but it felt like it was at the time. I'm going into class in a bit, I may write Part 3 in class, depending of my professors energy level, if I actually need to take notes or not.
I pictured this vividly. smooth ;)I maintain my composure until the end of her driveway, when I let out something between a howl and a roar of excitement, and blast a mix cd I had made all the way home, windows down, singing at the top of my lungs.
At first I had this whole post marked up talking about someone whom I thought was my first love. But then I wiped it out. Because I realized that I wasn't in love - rather, I was infatuated by the fact that a girl was actually nice to me. In reality, we were totally incompatible. We had nothing in common. Where I had drive, she was too content to do...nothing. We only broke off talking to each other a few weeks ago. It was then that I realized that being in one another's company severely damaged me as a person. I'm still recovering from it. And I went from having that one person I could talk to about anything, who I never fought with, whom, right under my family, held a special place in terms of people I care about (which is not an easy spot to earn), to not having that person at all. My phone is useless now. I leave it across the room because the one person I actually used the phone to talk to is gone. Since then I've done a lot of self-reflection. And I've felt strange. I had a conversation with my roommate about "having a girlfriend," and we both sort of realized that we were content with not having one. I mean, when I think about it - actually having a girlfriend, whom I've fallen for - I don't know what the hell we'd even do. That's the part that's made me feel strange this whole time. The previous girl and I talked, but, that was pretty much it. The occasional movie, maybe. We once went to an Art Museum. And while at the time I can say I enjoyed myself, I'm not sure what "the point" was. I'm both afraid and perfectly fine with the fact that I've become complacent with being alone. I feel as if I'm too boring/different to even engage in a relationship again, because if I were placed in one, I'm not sure what I would do. A difficult pill to swallow, but I seem to be handling it well. I think I've gotten off topic from the point. But I guess that's the story of my "first love" - realizing she wasn't, and then realizing that I don't know if I even need to meet her.
Frankly? Sex. Lots and lots of sex. Don't know how old you are but frankly, the younger you are, the more of it you'd probably have. In between the sex and before the sex for a number of dates there is some amount of talking and working one's way to sex. And you figure it out as you go, too. If you're not of drinking age of course you wouldn't go out to bars and drink. But that's one thing that's big with dating, and with that comes conversation, which generally flows a bit smoother after everyone's got some wine or liquor in 'em. Last night I went sledding down a giant hill with a boy. We walked to a reservoir in the snow. The reservoir sits in a huge hill. We didn't bring sleds, but because of the angle and the unprecidented precipitation this area has experienced so far this year (we've gotten near a foot of snow in 3-4 days) there were both sled tracks and discarded snow-riding equipment scattered all around. We saw people sledding on makeshift pieces of cardboard. I found a plastic container lid and he found a snowboard. We took turns pushing each other down the hill and trying not to end up in the ditch of rocks at the bottom. (We succeeded.) Then we went back to his place, where his roommates had made dinner and had friends coming over, and we watched The Human Centipede. (I would not necessarily advise you to watch The Human Centipede while on a date.) A lot of my dates have ended up being: eat/drink, walk around, talk. Sometimes you go someplace a little out of the ordinary in order to walk around, like you drive to a state park or a flea/farmer's market. Maybe you cook together (although I don't; I don't cook well with others). Maybe you make dinner for each other. You go to concerts together! (There isn't usually much talking then.) I have a bar with arcade games and sometimes I go there for dates. In the summer there are beaches. You just do things. Whatever you'd do with your friends except one-on-one. And hopefully you enjoy them.I don't know what the hell we'd even do.
I feel as if I'm too boring/different to even engage in a relationship again, because if I were placed in one, I'm not sure what I would do.
I think this is a myth. Or maybe I'm just an adolescent stuck in a grown man's body. I keep waiting for the day when my sex drive subsides, and I can get some focus in my life. But so far, two decades after hitting puberty, it hasn't really started to wane yet. It's a curse and a gift, I suppose.Sex. Lots and lots of sex. Don't know how old you are but frankly, the younger you are, the more of it you'd probably have.
What I have found is that the time spent having sex does not necessarily change, nor necessarily the drive... but the number of times you go in a day decreases. I have a couple of male friends in their early 30s who say they still have the same drive. Basically I think I am saying quality goes up but quantity may go down a bit. I'm just sayin', like, I ain't havin' sex five times in one afternoon anymore. And yeah, I'm sure miles vary.
Obviously, people have different sex drives but, it seems like it can be tied to a person's level of physical fitness. If I'm in really good shape, I have a really high sex drive. If I haven't been working out for a while, then it diminishes a bit. Someone must be studying this, somewhere.
Similarly to eightbitsamurai, I had written a post before this. But it's really close to his story, just felt it should me mentioned. Actually two. I tend to do that. I've written about 30 posts to this site that I just don't publish. My first love was the most recent, the one before that couldn't be called love. I've been fucked up since I met her, possibly because I met her, though it really didn't have to be her. I just wanted to be fucked up as a teenager, for some reason. It was cool back then, but looking back, I was still an idiot. We met at a party that I invited her best friend to. I was 15, drunk, and had no recollection of her whatsoever, but since I was a year older and presumably "cool", she remembered me. The real time I met her was at cross country. A look here, and a "I think I left my iPod at practice" text later, we texted a lot and we went on a date. She was forward. I liked that. We started seeing each other regularly, and progressed into a relationship phase where I refused to have a relationship. I didn't trust anyone. And I never really did trust her, even after we started dating, for a long long time. Eventually I got convinced that we were kind of in love. She loved me, which was obvious, but I wasn't really ready. A pretty tumultuous situation happened, and I decided I would tell her I loved her. Did I? At that point? Maybe. But I thought it was a good time for sure to say so. We had a great relationship for a while, but I was too emotional. She loved me enough that she didn't care though. We had a great time, until I got bored with it. Eventually I found a good enough reason to leave her for the first time. I didn't take it well and we started talking again. At this point I was hooking up with a bunch of other friends who I had been interested in, and they were interested in me. My first love and I started sleeping together again. I was still with other girls and I just didn't say that I was since I could morally make it okay by being ambiguous about every relationship I had at that point. I went to college, she came and visited pretty often, I was still sleeping with other people, according to her, she wasn't. I believe her, who knows. Eventually that continued until she wanted to be serious again when I was a sophomore, and I said no, but 5 months later wanted to do the same thing, and she said okay for a week, then just left me. We talked often for a few weeks after that, then less often. Eventually, a few weeks ago, we stopped talking at all. Do I regret it? Hell yes I do. Would I go back? Who knows, I haven't been given the chance. I guess two chances was it, and I blew it. I wanted more but I wanted freedom, and my own uncertainty gave in to a huge loss. Eventually I really did love her for everything. Who knows if anyone will actually read this wall, but if you did, it was kind of nice to write everything down like that in this wall of text. Dunno if I'll get any feedback, but it would be nice.
You should certainly post more. I had the same inhibitions - people here are damn smart, and you don't want to look like a fool. But eventually you just hit a fuck it stage and go for it anyways. Ya won't get judged. If only this computer were a time-computer. It's really easy to fall back on what-could-have-happened's, but I think looking forward is your best bet. I realize this is really easy advice to dish out - the hypocrisy even more prevalent when I can barely follow the advice myself - but I hope you find it useful anyways.
All plots are the same plots And don't confuse "Spend a lot of time reading things on the internet" with "damn smart" ;)it's really close to his story
onehunna asked this question a while back and got some really nice responses, you might want to check that post out if you're interested in the type of responses/discussion your question elicits here.
Can your first love be your only love these days? I'm wondering if i'm being too naive when I think about my boyfriend and me. He's my first boyfriend and the only person i've ever loved. Sometimes I think I'll spend my life with him. But then I look at the satistics and at everyone else around me and it seems very unlikely. It's almost like "the first love" now is more about getting that learning experience and getting your heart broken so that when you find the right person, you know how to act. I hope my first love will also be my last love, but only time will tell. I wonder what my ansewer to this question will be in 10 years. Will I be laughing at how naive I was or will I be feeling lucky we're a bit of an exeption to the rules?
It is good enough and I appreciate it. But that's how every couple felt at some point. There's a point before breaking up that you realise you don't have everything you need. I'm just hoping that moment never comes. I just felt a bit silly when I started typing up my response first and I sounded a lot like my niece when she declares she will marry some guy in her class (She's in primary school FYI). She might believe it when she says it, but everyone around her just knows she's being naive and laught it off because we all know she'll realise the truth in a week.
I don't have a lot of advice on how to make a relationship work, but I have a lot of advice on how to destroy them, as I'm pretty experienced in that regard. Firstly, you're never going to be excited to be around one person all the time. The problem is that doesn't meet everyone's fantasy and they jump ship. It's easier than sticking it out. That's bullshit. Are you excited to see your family all the time? Probably not, but you love them in a way that's well beyond infatuation. Second, if your partner isn't meeting your expectations about some issue, bring it up to them. It's shitty to have to have talks like that but it cleans the wound. Otherwise, you'll end up with the relationship equivalent of a trench boil, and it will puss all over you. Been there. Not fun. Lastly, if you really think of someone as a long term partner, think about what that means to you. Practical things aren't sexy at all (what are my career goals? do I want children? etc), but it's a lot easier to sort that shit out earlier rather than waiting a few years to find out that you aren't on the same page.
I don't think I have met anyone that I'd call that. I mean, I used to throw the word around a lot when I was younger, but thinking back, I hardly meant it. I've put a lot of thought into this topic (as I have with many other topics) and have to say I'm not expecting to be able to come up with a story for a while.
You can love ice cream. So when you meet somebody you like more than ice cream, is that grounds enough to say you love them? Or you can love your children, and that's usually a very strong love. But I'm willing to bet when most of us say the first "I love you" in a relationship, we love that person less than we would love our child. We probably wouldn't be willing to die for that person at that point. I guess everyone decides at what point what they feel can qualify as love, and the point you decide "like" turns into "love" is higher than it was before.
As of now, I would never say I "love" ice cream. Because I don't. I enjoy eating ice cream. I like the taste. But I don't love it. As for people I "like more than ice cream" that statement doesn't make sense. Do you mean "I enjoy that person's company more than I like the taste of ice cream"? I wouldn't say I "love" that person. Just that I enjoy their company. As for how that compares to the taste of ice cream, any comparison would absurd. I don't have any children, so I can't say how I'd react. I've never thought of children as something to love (besides when I was young and "loved" someone a similar age). If anything, I'd see my own child as a student. Someone to teach. Again, "love" would be different. But then is that truly love? Also, I fail to see how dying "for" someone implies that you love them. If anything, you are depriving them. That's not a "loving" thing to do AFAIK. I try to avoid the word "like" as it doesn't clearly describe what I think about things. It's a vague word that can be interpreted in many ways. Perhaps that's why I avoid the word "love" as well.Or you can love your children, and that's usually a very strong love.
But I'm willing to bet when most of us say the first "I love you" in a relationship, we love that person less than we would love our child.
We probably wouldn't be willing to die for that person at that point.
I guess everyone decides at what point what they feel can qualify as love, and the point you decide "like" turns into "love" is higher than it was before.
What an interesting question. Talking solely about food, I would say that it depends on my mood. And I suppose that could be extrapolated to different things, maybe even people, too. For instance I love Chinese food, I also love bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches. But I don't want to eat either all the time. Sometimes I'm in the mood for one when I'm not in the mood for other. Because of this it would be difficult for me to quantify how I feel about them even though statistically I eat way more Chinese food. Like, I probably love Chinese food more...but that doesn't mean I would necessarily choose Chinese food over a BEC sandwich every time. (I would choose Chinese food if I had to live without one of these items, though.)When a person says "I love X more than Y." Does that mean "If given the choice between X and Y I will choose X?" or