First time I fell in love I was eight. His mother was my dentist and he was the smartest boy I had ever met.Child of divorce, a bit damaged, with dark hair and eyes and a resonant name. He used to give me his fluorescent lollipop cards and say that it was hell if I didn't love him back. He said his shirt had a sensual print. I said the same...about my 101 dalmatian print blue leggings. We went to summer camp together, I drooled on his desk after his mom fixed my tooth, we danced on Backstreet Boys. Then he left the city. We would still see each other every once in a while when his parents would visit mine. I would make the most awkward jokes and wear the shortest skirt, even when having my both knees grotesquely bandaged. He was the first guy who made me want to be the best version of myself. I swore to love him forever, and all the love songs were happy and about us back then.
I met my second big crush when I was in the 6th grade. Again a very dark haired boy, this time with the bluest eyes ever. Fatherless, a bit damaged, it seemed like a nice pattern to follow. I went to social studies gatherings and sang in the choir just to spend time with him. I drove my best friend crazy by talking on and on about him, dragging her for endless walks by his block just hoping to run into him. It went on for a while, and by then the love songs, which of course were about us, had started to be bitter sweet. I was already discovering how confusing young love could be, but still happily crippled my emotions all over again.
After a string of small, poetic flings, that kept my hyper heart busy enough, I decided to give another piece of me for keeps. What started as friendship and gratitude to
(yet another) the dark haired boy who was by my side in the darkest hours, turned out to be the greatest love my 18 year old self could accommodate. I guess that after tons of happiness, promises, bliss, learnings, firsts, but an equal amount of anxiousness and hurt, a great love that is not THE love can only turn back into its initial state, of immense gratitude. For the teaching that sometimes it is okay for love songs to be sad, one can gracefully survive and even dance on them.
My latest discovery is that you can become oblivious even to the Theme Song of your life. Rollercoasters do stop running eventually, and neither heavenly nor heartbreaking songs last forever, even if they temporarily tell Your story.
Now for the first time in almost two decades, all the love songs are happy again. It is easier when they're not about anyone. Just like loving, that is easier with nobody to love.
