The First

Maybe that sound rude but there is always a “first”. Our history is made of a “first” kiss, a “first” drive, a “first” taste, and a “first” job. We all experience these “first”. Sometimes our “first” are by ourselves and sometimes with another.

These are memorable events that carve our ever-changing lifestyle and perhaps shape our future.

Some of these “first” events may not be life shattering or even maybe forgotten. The “first” drink, the “first” smoke, the “first” night out will only be remembered if the consequences were disastrous. The “first” could be a consensual decision or be swayed by social pressure.

Then there is that “first” intimate moment. The person you share this moment with will be engrained into your soul forever. Some stay with their “first” and get married and live happily ever after and some can barely remember what he or she looked like. No matter how many other special moments take place, the “first” will hold that one place in your heart.

I remember being the “first” with a few. Some were shocking and some were very revealing. Some I may never ever know about because the other person went away. Some may have even been the “first” and I didn’t know. Some I will never forget.

My second wife described to me her “first” with great celebration. I was not her first but enjoyed the story with a certain jealous humor. I don’t think she will mind me sharing. She had been dating this guy (no, I don’t remember his name) and one night they decided to go out on a golf course to…. Well, you know. She said the moment was loving and tender and slow and concerned for each other and she glowed when she talked about it.

The golf course was next to a train track and at that special moment a train came by so they both got up and ran along the tracks buck-naked waiving at the passengers. OK, stop giggling.

My “first” was sort of a friend turned into a lover. She was one of a group of friends that would hang around together. We were young enough not to be over zealous about exploring but old enough to feel the internal changes. All day we hung around with each other, just pals swimming, surfing, laughing, singing, running on the beach and just sharing time together. There were no pairs or boyfriend/girlfriend connections, just a group of kids enjoying the summer.

Every evening we would gather on the beach, build a bon fire, and sing, dance and tell pirate stories.  As the night grew darker, couples started to separate from the group and wander down the beach and into the dunes. We were becoming of age.

So a hometown girl and I decided to take the trip. I had noticed the changes through the years but only saw her a month or so during the summer. What used to be a tomboy in pigtails and her rough and tumble ways had changed into a soft and lumpy tight bathing suit. Her voice was softer and quiet and even though I couldn’t hear ever word, I was at awe in her thoughts.

Like most boys, we had been fumbling around and without knowing what we were doing trying to act a suave as James Bond. We even snuck a couple of peeks at some girlie magazines to see what all the fuss was about.

Somewhere along the way I had this plaque up on the wall of my bedroom. It was two little kids looking into their diapers. The statement under the drawing said, “There Is A Difference”. Don’t know why I had it or why my parents would have given it to me.

So my “first” was that kind of moment. It was an “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kind of moment. We were more curious than amorous. What started off as a giggly touch and rub turned into a familiar closeness and exploration? Without having any idea of avoidance of certain consequences each time we went a little further. We never expressed love or affection to each other but were more than willing to continue.

The summer season came to an end and I had to go back home to go to school. We didn’t have one of those long good-bye moments, but a look and a wink that another summer will come next year.

About the end of the school year my cousin called me and said he was coming up to see me. There was something very important I needed to know.

Let me explain something about my cousin. He was the foreman of our little parties on the beach. He was the local mixer upper and was always on the edge. He learned how to drive a motorboat, ski, surf, and parachute. He even learned how to fly a plane.

So he flew up one night and called. I got a ride to the airport and he threw me in and flew back in the darkness. It seemed like another crazy adventure by my even crazier cousin until he started talking to me. “Cookie is having YOUR baby,” he said.

I couldn’t calculate in my head what he was talking about but I started taking his words very seriously. As he landed, rather roughly, my mind was spinning with what may lay ahead. I had not graduated high school and I was going to be a father?

My cousin, who of course was not driving age, had a car available to drive to the hospital. As morning was breaking, we found the room but had to wait until we could have access. By then I was going crazy with the possibilities and then there she was. Not with one but two babies. She looked very different than the girl on the beach. She was looking motherly.

We talked for a few minutes while my cousin listened in the corner. She told me she had met this guy and these babies were not mine. She told me they were going to get married and raise a family. She had become a different person than the one I knew on the beach.

I called my parents to tell them of the adventure and calm nerves and get enough money for a train ride home. My cousin and I were grounded as we often were, but we talked our way out of it.

I was relieved to not have to change my lifestyle of nonsense and vulgarity and lost contact with my “first”.

I continued to stumble in and out of “first” and slowly learned my lessons. Unfortunately “my first” died of cancer, but the memories of our exploration will always survive.

Thanks for sharing.