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What are the significant moments in our lives? Learning to walk, getting a driver’s license, graduating high school, moving out, getting married, having children. Yet, few mention the pivotal experience that shapes future relationships: first love. Or more precisely, the heartache that often accompanies it.
It was a quintessential teenage romance. Alex was two years my senior, from a small town a few hours away, and visited my high school for a volleyball game. I was just 14, one of the few kids of diverse backgrounds at a school dominated by ultra-religious families and high achievers.
In an era before the internet and smartphones, and with strict parents who wouldn’t allow me to wear shorts, our only means of communication was through letters. Since my mother read all my mail, Alex had to send his letters to my friend’s house. Eventually, I acquired my own phone line, but we kept writing. While I battled my insecurities, Alex reassured me that I was his “parents’ dream child.” We were together for four years.
Alex was my first in many things: first love, first sexual experience, first prom date, and the first time I was caught in a secret relationship by my mother (I’ve since honed my skills at keeping things under wraps). He was also the first to cheat on me and the first to tell me he had a positive HIV test. Typical teenage drama.
Our breakup occurred just before prom. Frustrated that I had already paid for his tux, he insisted he would still attend. My younger self, with low self-esteem, thought it was a good idea, which led to a return to his apartment and some reckless decisions. We rekindled our relationship, but he failed to mention he had started dating someone else during our time apart.
His new girlfriend embodied the underground music scene and drug culture, a stark contrast to my clean-cut image. I was not about to wear her peasant skirts. On my 18th birthday, while I was at work, Alex called to inform me about his positive HIV test. Despite always using protection, we had one slip-up.
My mind raced as I finished my shift and headed downtown. I encountered Andrea, his new girlfriend, coming toward me. What ensued was a chaotic confrontation where we exchanged blows, fueled by jealousy and confusion. The police were called, and I was terrified of the consequences, having never dealt with law enforcement before.
Eventually, we ended up at Alex’s apartment, where he and Andrea shared cigarettes while I panicked about the smell. They discussed soap operas, and I processed Alex’s health news. I left feeling a swirl of emotions; the fear of a positive HIV test loomed over me like a dark cloud.
Weeks later, after numerous tests, I received confirmation of a negative result. Alex’s positive test was a false alarm, but my anxiety about HIV persisted. I saw him only once more, after a friend and I went to retrieve the money he owed me. After that, he vanished from my life.
That relationship shaped my views on love and trust. I still find myself drawn to blue eyes but remain cautious about intimacy. I developed a coping mechanism to move on from heartbreak, though it hasn’t always worked perfectly.
Then this morning, I received a message from Alex on LinkedIn: “Hey, I just needed to reach out and apologize. I know it’s been 25 years, a bit strange, but I’ve always been a bit unusual. Yes, I changed my last name. Remember high school and volleyball? Hope life has treated you well.”
Naturally, I shared this with my high school friends, speculating about his motives. While common sense tells me not to respond, part of me, in defense of my younger self, is curious about his apology. I accepted his request and replied: “Two questions: Why the name change? And what are you apologizing for?” While I found closure long ago, I’m open to exploring any lingering wounds.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the complex emotions and life lessons stemming from a first love and the subsequent heartbreak. It captures the essence of teenage romance and the lasting impact it has on future relationships. After receiving an unexpected apology from an ex, the narrator grapples with the desire for closure and understanding, ultimately deciding to reach out for clarification.
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