by Shanna Campbell

Created on: March 15, 2009

First love can occur at any point in anyone's life, usually unexpectedly. The best love stories are usually accompanied with a tale of sorrow and heart break in the end. This is true when I look back on the first person I ever truly loved.

I met him when I was 18 years old while taking a cosmetology course. He was from England, tall, handsome and hilarious. He was 11 years older than I was. This was an issue that would come up more times in my life than I would like to recall. He was like my best friend. Everything we thought, we though alike. The same songs were on our lips, we dressed alike, spoke at the same time and above all, we understood each other. The problem (as if there wasn't one...) was that he had married someone else. A Canadian girl he met back home who he openly admitted to not reciprocating feelings. She had deceived him the day before they got married. He never forgot, but the pressure to go through with the wedding was too much for him. He chose to please everyone else and seek a new opportunity instead of following his heart.

Like I said, we were best friends. We could talk on the phone for hours and hour. He remembered everything about me- my favourite colour, songs, food., where I used to live, my deceased mother's name and details about her. His music taste was exactly like mine, and he told me about all these songs I had never heard before and instantly fell in love with. I had a huge crush on him, and my friends used to joke about it all the time. I had a boyfriend, too, who I was living with at the time.

My boyfriend at the time wasn't exactly a prince charming. He left me out of nowhere on Thanksgiving day. He went a few towns over to his dad's house. I never did know why- he just said he needed a break. When he decided to forgive me for whatever I had done wrong, I did his laundry and found condoms in his pocket. I was on birth control at the time, they were open and the receipt was for a day that he was at his father's, away from me. I left it all in a neat pile on our bed that we shared. He said he had purchased them for a friend. Yes. Then proceeded to dole them out to him like candy, only one at a time? "Oh no, just one! I have to keep the rest for collateral". This didn't make any sense. I was working my way through school with 2 part time jobs and scrimping where I could- the thought of leaving the place we shared was an impossible dream. I just couldn't afford it.

The man I was so in love with saw all of these things first hand.

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