I walked up the road to meet my friends after I had eaten my tea and there in the distance was this tall teenage boy, I looked at him and thought "Is that him, is that what all the bloody fuss was about" as I was about to talk to my friend standing next to me, this boy or M, caught my eye and was staring in my direction, and I can safely say readers, that my legs went to jelly and I felt sick. I was in love.
My first teenage romance, we met at the subway station how romantic and his first present to me was a 12" vinyl copy of Madonna's Borderline, which I found the other day hence this post. we broke up three times in six months once because I accused him of fancying Sharon(miss popular) Davies and once because his mates interfeared and once when he met his friends instead of me.
We spent four years being childhood sweethearts, long hot Summer days teddy bears and love hearts for presents, laughter and not a care in the world. At 19 everything changed he wanted to get engaged, and I said we were to young and wanted to wait, until we completed our studies and got jobs. He wouldn't listen and we started to argue, and one horrible day we had a nasty argument in the street, were he told me he hated me and that was that. My heart broke I literally felt it brake, and I cried and cried at Whitney's Houston songs. I left for Italy that Summer and came back in September a different person. I grew up. I think most people remember their first love it's part of life's pleasure and pain. The only thing is I hope he doesn't bloody read this.