(Really, he was the son of a preacher man.)
So, since the big V day is coming up, Love is on my mind. I'm a super lucky girl, and I love the story of Brent and Carol. I tell EVERYONE I converse with how we came to be. It's by far one of my favorite topics. In fact, I tell people everyday that I recently moved to Colorado just so they'll ask me why, and I can tell them the story. So, now I'd like to tell it again, in more detail. <3
When I was about 13 my mom started dragging a very begrudging teenage me to the Mormon church. At first I figured it was just another of her religion hopping adventures, but then she really started to get involved. Over the next few years it went from Sunday School each week, to Seminary. Seminary is pretty much Mormon school. Every day before NORMAL school I would go to MORMON school. For extended spiritual teachings that go beyond Sunday school. Then, the summer I was 15 she sent me to a youth conference, which is like church camp.
I was not happy about this. At all. A long weekend with a bunch of kids that didn't even drink SODA..... It was my idea of hell. But, I was left with no choice of course, so off I went. Wasn't I surprised to find on the bus to church camp was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life? And wasn't I more surprised (and delighted) to find that he wasn't your typical Mormon boy, although his father was a bishop of the church and their family is VERY involved.
It was literally love at first sight. A skater/stoner boy with longish black hair, an amazing smile, and eyes that gave me goosebumps. We spent the entire bus ride (To Ohio or something, the place eludes me now) talking about music and movies. He taught me about Pink Floyd, the movie The Labyrinth, and how I could watch the Wizard of Oz with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the moon and have a totally different experience. We laughed and joked, and flirted. Something I was very new at and extremely crappy at I'm sure.... ;)
At this age in my life I was starting to rebel. I was becoming more aware of my sexuality, becoming interested in drugs, independence, rock music, and all the things I wasn't supposed to be interested in. And it seemed to me like Brent was interested in these things too. To this day, every guy I have ever been remotely interested in, or attracted to, or involved with has reminded me of that teenage Brent in some way.
There was supposed to be this dance on the last night of the trip. I even remember the dress I had brought along for it. I was soooo excited about the possibility of my very first slow dance (and maybe my first real kiss) being with Brent. And then that butthead got caught smoking pot or cigarettes or something, and lost the right to go. :( I remember I got all dressed up, did my hair and makeup just the way my Seventeen magazine said boys liked it. I got to the dance and waited. And waited. And waited. He never showed. But his friend, Jason, showed up. Maybe he didn't know why Brent was absent, but he never told me what had happened. I figured maybe he didn't like me after all. :( So Jason and I talked for a little bit, and then he asked me to dance. So my first slow dance was with the
friend of the first boy I had ever loved.
It was...... nice. My hormones were raging being that I was only 15, so I enjoyed it. He was a gentleman, and he was sweet. So I guess that's why, in the back of the dark bus on the way home, I didn't stop him when he kissed me. And then my first real
kiss was with the friend of the first boy I ever loved....
Sometime during the weekend, (although I don't remember) I must have given Brent my phone number. Because a few days later, he called me. I was shocked, delighted, and crazy nervous! But we talked and talked and talked. A lot. And he promised to call me again. And he did. A lot. :) He lived about 45 minutes away from me, and neither of us were old enough to drive. So we spent the rest of that summer talking quite frequently, and we even sent a few letters. Although because of the pot he gratuitously smoked at the time, HE doesn't remember the letters. Or the silver ring he sent me that I wore on a chain the rest of the summer. I kept it too, and had it until my house burnt down in 2000.
Anyhow, I ended up going to live with my dad very shortly after these events, and Brent and I lost contact. He says me he called my house again and again, but my mom wouldn't tell him where I was. She never told me he called. Faced with a new living situation, a new school, and all kinds of adjustments, Brent slowly slipped out of my everyday thoughts. I'd still think about him now and again, and sometimes even think I saw him here and there. In fact, I probably did, once we were both old enough to drive and would go downtown to Summerstock, and Blues on the Mall every summer. So time went on, and I grew up. I had a few relationships, I got married, had kids, got divorced, had another relationship, a few flings. Love was not my friend. In fact, I began to view Love as my enemy.
I gave up on it altogether. I moved in with one of my very best friends, Brett. I worked, I spent time with my kids, I drank entirely too much when they weren't around. I had a nice house, a great job, friends, family. (Maybe a little too much drama from the latter, but life was still good.) I was happy. The insecure little girl inside me, and the ultra romantic woman I once was butted heads and we decided the best way to survive without all the heartache, was to avoid love altogether! And so I did. But then one day as my kids and I were watching Labyrinth, he crossed my mind, like he always has when I've watched that movie. And I wondered where he was. I figured he was off somewhere, married happily with a brood of Mormon children, and a pretty little wife. I wanted to spy, so I decided to look him up on facebook, of course!
Except....... I couldn't remember his last name. I remembered where he went to high school, and that he was a year older than me. But that didn't turn up any results. So after about a week, I posted a craigslist ad. I got some awful responses back from people pretending to be him, claiming to know him (it turns out they didn't) requests for pictures of myself, and a few offers to buy my dirty panties. (WHAT. THE. FUCK????)
Finally I said
screw it, and started adding every Brent from Michigan who was a year older than me. FINALLY, I found him. :) After confirming via messages that it was really him, I snooped in his pictures. He was even more gorgeous to me than he was when we were teenagers! And single. And in Colorado....
So we fell back in our pattern of long distance, but this time it was much easier, thanks to social networking, texts, email, and skype. And I began to fall in love with him all over again. He bought me a ticket to come visit in Colorado, and I fell even deeper. He brought me to the mountains, and taught me how to camp. We laughed, we joked, and we flirted. Something I became MUCH better at in 15 years ;)
After all I had been through, it was the scariest thing for me. Here was this guy, who I had always been in love with, and now I loved him more than I had loved ANYONE. And we were perfect for each other! I was so scared to lose it. So scared that I'd end up heartbroken just like every other time I let someone in. But I swear the universe or some type of higher power sent us to each other again for a reason. And who was I to interfere with that? I threw out all my reservations and doubts and opened up my heart for what I hope will be the last time ever. Because I couldn't have found a more perfect counterpart to spend the rest of my life with.
So he wasn't my first slow dance or my first real kiss, but I hope with all my heart that the first boy I ever loved will be the last slow dance and last kiss I ever have.
