Occasionally, I check Google for folks from my past. One person that I check on is my first love. He also happens to be the person with which I first experienced sex. I recall the anniversary of that specific event as March 21 and that triggers my thoughts to wander his way. Over the intervening decades, there hasn't been much about him to find. Nothing in the standard social media venues and no pictures except the ones that sit in my photo albums.
Of course, time marches on and as we get more connected via the internet, it becomes more difficult to be hidden. This year, I found a picture of him on a career website and on Google+.
It's been 27 years. Why might I actually still give a shit? I give a shit because he was kind, and humble, and smart. I give a shit because he was always the blue print of what I wanted a man to be. He was a clear communicator; and a feminist in ways that I couldn't be a feminist until my daughter was born. I don't recall that he self classified that way; I just knew in my bones that I was safe with him in ways that I really haven't been safe since. I also felt that all women were safe that way with him.
And now, there is the slim possibility that I could contact him. You can see who checked you out on career sites. I don't know if he would even remember me. If he does, he probably remembers a clingy, sex-crazed, smart girl who thought that her fatness was a problem.
I also don't want to find out if he is no longer like that kind young man that I recall. I don't want my idea of him shattered after 27 years.
And so I will sit with the feeling of kindness and safety when I remember his eyes.
that worry that he won't be the same now.. that hit me when I was reading your story. You have a very special memory of him and your time with him and I don't blame you for not wanting to wreck that.
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