first

he was my first. first boyfriend, first love, first husband, first divorce. he was kind and funny. he was short and dark. i was tall and pale. i was 16. he was 18. he had graduated from high school. he was living at home. he worked where i worked. for him it was a full-time job, for me it was extra spending money. my parents let him take me out. once. he picked me up at the house. it was summertime. he was tan. he always turned very dark. it was the 70's. he had an afro. he had a large afro.

my parents sat me down for a talk the next day. we're sure he's a nice boy, but we think he's too old for you. uh-huh. too old or too dark? he's swedish, i say. he doesn't look swedish, they say. that's not the issue, they say. he's too old.

i began sneaking around to see him. i'd think of reasons to close at work so i could be with him a little longer. i'd skip my last class and he'd pick me up from school and we'd drive around and neck.

we went to my house and my parents were at work. we made love. we were both virgins. it was bad. it was uncomfortable. we kept at it. we got better.

i found an apartment. i moved on my 18th birthday while my parents were at work. i left a note at my dad's office. in it, i told him he'd better tell mom before she got home from work. i didn't tell them where i went. they found out from my boyfriend's parents. it was okay. they left me alone.

they tried to convince me they liked my boyfriend now - since i was bound and determined to marry him. they took me home. they tried to make nice. we planned a big wedding. a week before the wedding, i called it off. my parents told me they thought i'd done the right thing. they never liked him after all. we eloped.

he'll always be the first.