first love
July 19th, 2007 by awtm
I am not really sure what RSM, had in mind when he asked me to post in his absence. I suppose something universal might be in order…
And it is summer…
It seems as though every summer I catch myself wondering what happened to my first boyfriend.
I was 15, sporting a Mohawk, and detasseling that summer.
To those of you who have not had the pleasure of detasseling corn, consider yourself blessed. The funny part is, I BEGGED for this job, only because I had a couple of friends doing it as well.
5:30am…every morning for about 4-6 weeks out of the summer.
We would drive to the buses which would take us to some God forsaken cornfield in the middle of the sticks of the great plains.
And then you would arrive at the destination only to pop the golden spikes from the top of the plant.
5:30 every morning. My girlfriend and I thought, well sure, we will get paid to hang out, get tanned, and make money.
Not a great plan when hindsight involved.
It really wasn’t so awful I must say, as I had already been working as a CNA at the hospital, taking care of mostly post surgical patients, and some dying patients. Not exactly a FUN job for a 15 year old. This detasseling gig was supposed to be my FUN JOB, in addition to my other job.
One of the mornings, the bus loads, and my girlfriend and I are half sleeping, and we arrive via bus to our field.
And it was there we spent the morning singing Dead Kennedy’s songs, when what do I see? Another mohawk poking up over the tall corn. And I heard a third voice joining in….”Welcome to 1984, are you ready for the third World War? You too will meet the secret police”…
Intrigued, I had to cross about 3 rows, and saw him.
Olive skinned, brown eyed, and mohawk…
I retreated back into the corn.
I had to tell my girlfriend, we just must have missed this exquisite creature on the bus this morning. Frankly things are missed at 5:30am. But how we missed this I have no idea.
I am unsure how I spent the rest of the morning, but I could not wait for lunch break, because I knew we were sure to fnd out more.
And I guessed right, because at lunch, there he was eating a sandwich, surrounded by townies….he could not have been from town, we KNEW EVERYONE, and he could not have been from a surrounding town, because all of the cute farm boys, well we knew them too.
So I am unsure how the conversation was sparked, I am sure it was music, and I left knowing his name was Matthew, he was visiting family from Denver for the summer, and he was BORED. He could not believe he was stuck in the country. WE ate our lunches, and smoked a cigarette…..He gave me his number.
And it seems strange to me now, to forget when the first kiss took place, it was something I should remember. But I do not recall it any longer.
And so we would detassle, and then we would pack my girlfriends t-top 78? bright yellow mustang, and we would head to the river, or the sand pit. To do things that you do when you are 15. Plan the future, and have a boy hold your face as he kissed you sweetly on the mouth. Tanned hands, and arms, and legs intertwined….and sandy.
And then summer was over, fast as it had arrived, and he left for Denver. And he would be back at Christmas, and I waited and waited…and we wrote each other week. Promising to wait for one another…
And when Christmas arrived. I was thrilled. I recall what I was wearing, and how sweetly punk I wanted to look….turquoise pants, with chartreuse, and magenta plaid, white shirt, chartreuse cardigan…..funny that I can recall that…
And he greeted me sweetly, and we went for a drive. He proclaimed his love for me, insisting that I prove it.
And I wouldn’t, and didn’t…and that was the end of what I thought was love….
It was heartbreaking, and I remember tears, as explaining to him I was a virgin, and really had never thought of having sex. I also told him that if he loved me, he would wait instead of insisting on me giving in…
and it was over, and I do not remember much about that Christmas, except for the crying, and thinking my World fell apart…
and it did not.
I wonder what happened to him, and wonder what he thinks of that summer…
WOW. That was beautifully written and full of heart! It is funny (but not humorous) how we forget certain details but retain others… regardless of how minute. I wonder why that is?
I am so proud of you; the integrity you display today is the same you have held fast to since this scenario. Good on you!
My first love is a Pulitzer Prize winner… big freakin’ deal… My current love is just. plain. a. winner.
I love you Sgt. Huff.
wow, great story, awtm.
and at 14? yow. reminds me that there were maybe one or two girls in my entire giant school that were rumored to have had sex, and we thought they were all nasty trailer trash prostitutes.
glad you escaped your first love in tact.
he should love that when he gets back
You should google him.
My first love? The preacher’s son.
And it ended the same way, for the same reason.
And I have no regrets!
Great story. Thank you for the memories…..
Kudos for keeping your morals in the face of first love. It was hard for me, too… I thought it was the best/worst/most-amazing/stressful/only-thing-that-was-real in the world at the time.
Very nice A’dub. I was probably the fella with the mokawk, but without one;). This post reminded me of my teen youth time workin’ on the ‘bacca farms. The song in this post http://www.redneckramblings.com/?p=894#comments came straight to me… I think, as I type this, I’ve listened to it ’bout half a dozen times in a row now, and I really should hit they sack, but I just wanted to let you know, it brought back some memories for an ol’ ‘Neck too.
Come to think of it… you might wanna skip the song in the post, pay no attention the other drivel around the song. It is what it is. I say that about the song, ’cause I’m not sure I could name 1 Dead Kennedy’s song. I do remember back in the day, thinkin’ ol’ John Riggin’s mohawk was bad ass. He was a beast back in the day.
If I get any Kia coupons, I’ll send ‘em your way.
My first love . . . drove a deep shiny purple GTO. Mark was his name. He had an appropriate mullet, drove a fast car, moved too fast – but surprisingly – didn’t force the issue. It ended because I was 14 and he . . . was not. I cannot say that the next love didn’t match your above description a little more closely though. . . .that I cannot say.