You all remember your firsts. The first time you had a crush; the first time you kissed someone other than your mother; the first time you fell in love, or infatuation; the first time you had a sexual experience; the first time you were in a relationship; the first time you had your heart broken. I'll always remember my first boyfriend, 'n all the firsts we've experienced as a couple.
I remember the first time we’ve met. As I rode shotgun in his truck, I nervously made conversation, hoping my confident façade would impress him. I stuttered here ‘n there, brought up random topics ‘n couldn’t focus on one; I didn’t fool him. On the way home, we rented the movie Click. Good, I thought, he seemed domestic. I wouldn't want to keep in touch w/ someone w/ only one thing on their mind. But let me be real: I had only one "thing" in mind at the time.
Meeting Daphne was fun. I couldn't recall ever seeing or touching a dalmatian, let alone one w/ spots perfectly distributed around the body, 'n a stomach that can count as a two-pack. The first interaction between him 'n "Daph" made me mistakenly guess her age, as she stood up on her two hind legs, having a boxing match w/ her "daddy."; I also second-guessed his age, seeing how energetic he was w/ his best friend. It was cute. I never knew Dalmatians "smiled." I could've sworn she was going to rip his face off as she snarled 'n snorted; the only thing missing was foam dripping down her mouth. But it was all just another playful game between man 'n his dog.
I remember the first time I called him just to say good night. I was eating out w/ a friend, 'n we were both talking about the guys we were focusing on. He was already in love, 'n I didn't know if I was or not, but I really liked the guy whom was on my mind. I decided that I'd give him a call. I didn't feel obligated to, but I wanted to. It felt rewarding to reassure him that he was still in my thoughts by saying good night to him. My friend said it was sweet of me that I did that. I remember I used to be the one that'd say, "Awww, that's cute," to a friend who would say sweet things to his or her partner, but now I was in the moment. I then knew what it felt like to be commended for doing something so small 'n effortless, yet w/ a great impact. This pattern grew more into the future. Now I always put him to bed, then we kiss each other, I kiss him on the forehead, we say I love you to each other, 'n I leave.
I can recall our first fight - if you can call it a fight (I consider it one if one or both of us gets hurt). He got tickets to a Padres game. The location of the seats were more than great; we were basically on the field right next to the third basemen. Padres fans around us were within earshot of the third base referee (is that what you call 'em?) 'n had the liberty of making rude comments to him if he made a bad call. The whole game was great, as our home team won, 'n we were there to see Trevor Hoffman's 500th save of his career (I guess that's significant. 500 is a pretty big number). The night couldn't get any better, w/ our hands clasped 'n fingers intertwined as we drove away from Downtown. However, on the way back home, some misunderstanding took place as words exchanged, 'n it led him to withdraw his hands from mine. He put in a James Blunt CD, having the song "Goodbye My Lover" blaring out of the truck w/ the windows down. I couldn't stand the loudness, 'n the song, so I wanted him to turn it down. The ride home was silent, 'n no more words were exchanged. As he dropped me off home, I said my thanks, but no kiss. As he made a U-turn at the intersection next to my house, his wheels screeched. I slept that night feeling empty, as if the whole fun night was invalidated b/c of a stupid misunderstanding. The next day at his house, I raised my arms out for a hug, 'n we both knew what for. W/ his face buried into my shoulder, he muffled, "I don't like fighting w/ you."
'n that was our first make-up.
To be continued.