I am a fool. A straight-up fool. There is no way to deny this simple fact. And frankly, what better time to admit my fool nature then the day of ‘the fool.’ It all started with a silly date. My first date. To most it would seem pretty tame. We went to go see a movie, held hands, and chatted. As the days passed and we were together longer he became my best friend. It took us a month to even kiss. Who does that I know? To be honest that was probably the best kiss I have ever had. The kiss that tipped me over the edge and introduced me to love. Not the I want to have sex with you because my hormones are racing lust; love. No, this was me wanting to be a better person because I was around him love. He was my world and at the time I could have been anything so long as it was with him. He inspired me in ways I can not even articulate in this blog. To this day I can still look back at our relationship and smile. He created this invisible bar (which has been with me ever since.) And apart of me will always love him, for how he has impacted me, even at this moment. When I am upset, and need to think of a truly amazing and life-altering moment in my life I can always pinpoint that kiss. Two completely nervous teens. One inflatable couch. Giggling friends outside the room holding the door shut. The meeting of our eyes. The soft touch of his lips. And my realization that cherishing these moments in time are what make life precious. What he doesn’t know is that I wrote him a 5 page letter thanking him. He has been my muse for many a poem and many a journal entry.
Love makes me a fool. It sucks me in and I let it. I have no breaks. I try to create road-blocks and obstacles and somehow it seeps in. I want nothing more then to live this past again. To make it my present. To find that person who can inspire me to do wondrous things. I want my life to make a difference in someone else’s life. I want to bring them the joy that I feel thinking about love. All this is foolish. But, I don’t care. Call me a fool. It will not change my determination, my drive, or my desire to manifest my love. I will wait for that person that looks at me and sees me. That shys away from that initial kiss. That I get nervous just being around because they make my skin tingle and my face feel like its on fire. That person that talks to me about all my ridiculous and opinionated follies.
Until then I will fondly relive my awakening. The immortal kiss of my very life.
“A sense of humor is the ability to understand a joke-and that the joke is oneself.” ~Clifton Paul Fadiman
1 comment:
I am continually suprised by how many of my friends have these heart-felt stories and memories of their first love (whom, even more to my shock, they met in high school!). Holy cow! Maybe this was solely because I was a "late bloomer," but seriously, was I the only one who thought dating back then was a total joke? Was I the only one who took my date to prom because he offered to pay for the limo? Surely someone else besides me lost their "v-card" at 17 as not to have it before senior year (very American Pie-esque).
Ah, high school. The awkward dates that never got past 1st base... The "windmill" make-out sessions (and if you don't know what I mean, don't ask)... It was a far cry from romantic. As for me, I was all about running track and drinking 151 with the JEB Stewart crew. Those were my good memories.
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