Saturday, May 21, 2011

First Love

A student of mine just broke up with her boyfriend. She told me they still love each  other, but they needed space because things were going too fast and getting too serious.

They are both good kids, and I am proud of them for making this decision. It is a tough decision to step away from someone you love, especially since you do not know if you will end up together again someday.

She asked me if my husband was my first love. I told her he wasn't. I did not tell her this to make her feel better, I told her this because it is true. I used to wish that my husband was my first love, but as I get older I become more grateful that he wasn't my first love.

She asked me about the story of my first love, and I told her. My first love was M. I told her that M and I were good friends for a long time, and when we were both 16 we started dating. I remember when he asked me to "go out" with him. We were sitting in a van after a night of bowling with friends. We were waiting for something (I can't remember who or what), and M and I were sitting on the floor of the van. He was sitting behind me with his arms wrapped around me. It was snowing and cold that night. He asked me out, and I said yes. From then on, we were always together. He walked me to class, I walked him to practice, he drove me home from school. He took me dancing in the middle of the road. I made him dinner. We went for walks. He was sweet, he was kind, and I fell in love with him quickly.

But as quickly as we fell in love. Things started moving quickly. We were both LDS and knew that sex was just not an option. But that didn't stop us from talking about marriage. It didn't stop us from kissing...a lot. We were 16 and head over heals in love, but as things got more and more serious, we started to worry. We did not want to be one of those couples who said, "Well, we know we are going to get married one day, so does it really matter?" We both knew it did,  and neither one of us wanted to go there. We knew that we did not want to cross that line, and we were both afraid that was where we were headed. So as in love as we were, and as happy as we were together, we knew that we had to break up. It was hard; that is an understatement. We talked about it for a long time, but in the end we both knew it was the right decision. M was absolutely my first love, and I did not know how to get over him. We were still friends. We talked all the time, but we worked hard to not be together. We did not want to close the door on our relationship. We both hoped we would find a way to be together. It was not easy at first, but as time went on, it became better. We remained friends, not as close as we once were, but still good friends.

Fast forward a year after our break up. I started dating my future husband (I will call him H). We had also been good friends for a long time, but I knew this was different. I fell more in love with H than I ever knew possible. I was only 17, but from the moment that H kissed me, I knew I would never kiss anyone else.

H and I were not a couple that made sense to a lot of people. We were different in just about every way possible, and everyone who heard that we were together thought we were a strange couple.

But then one day at a party, M heard that H and I were together. He didn't know I was in earshot behind him. He said, "H and Kage? Wow...way to go Kage!" And then he paused, smiled, and said, "No. Way to go H." Those were the nicest words I had ever heard, and I knew that he was sincere in saying them.

As I relayed this story to my student whose heart was breaking over her break-up, I told her that even though I did not marry my first love, I do not regret loving him, and I knew that he felt the same way. So as much as I used to want to say that my dear husband is my first love, I know that the lessons I learned from loving M were important.

I then told her that while my dear husband may not have been my first love, he is my last love. He is my life, and most importantly he is my eternal love. And that is the one that matters.

No comments: