All in all, the first date with First Class Frank was pretty standard for a high school. He picked me up and we went to dinner. We rented a movie (a very serious movie, Crash) and went back to his house to watch it. Of course in high school this means I met his parents. This meet and greet went much better than meeting Mr. Granola’s parents.
Watching Crash as a first date movie was strange. I don’t recommend it to anyone. It’s strangeness increased by being the movie that was on during our first kiss. Yes, Frank was forward and for some reason it didn’t bother me. After that kiss, the courtship was over. He became my boyfriend very quickly without any questions asked.
First Class Frank and I had a few good months. We had fun together. Everything moved a lot faster the second time around. But of course, with the increased speed of the relationship, there was also a lot more drama.
I was lucky to live in the “party” house in high school. My mom let me and my friends drink as long as no body left. To top it off, they didn’t mind if we smoked. They thought the hooka was funny and would sit out side with us talking and telling stories of when they were our age. So when I offered to host the St. Patty’s day party for my group of friends, the obvious answers was yes. The party was amazing! It was so much fun. I loved having all my friends there and having First Class Frank there with them. That was the problem though, Frank wanted to have ever ounce of my attention, which is difficult while I was hosting the party. Yes, I can multitask but I can only do so much. But he prevailed. And how, you may ask, did he successfully manage to win 100% of my attention? Well that’s simple, by crying. He threw the biggest temper tantrum and started to cry. Needless to say, my perfect Martha-Stewart-esque party was ruined. People left because no one was drinking. No one was drinking because they all knew I was upset. Once everyone left the party, Frank and I talked.
At this point in the night I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I was done with this relationship. I had much more important things to worry about during my senior year of high school. But Frank talked his way back into my heart. After our blow up fight, I found a hand drawn picture-note thing behind my picture frame on my bed side table. He called me a few minutes later and I apologized and he did too. This would be the first of a never ending series of fights and long winded make-up sessions.
It was this early in our relationship that I first toyed with the idea of worth. Was it worth it, all the drama, and tears, for a relationship that had just been formed? I didn’t love him yet, even though I knew he loved me. I knew because he told me and it was one of the most awkward conversations I’ve had still to this day. Frank and I were lying in his bed. He gazed at me. I loved the way he looked at me. I always felt pretty and I always knew he genuinely cared about me. Then he ruined the beautiful moment by dropping the bomb. The “L-Bomb” that is. I wasn’t anywhere near expecting it. It had only been a few weeks. I just smiled and kissed him, hoping it would just go away if ignored. I didn’t want to be the girl who said “Thank you” and I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t love him. So what was I supposed to do? Well, Frank wasn’t so couth; this would not be a First Class moment. He looked at me and asked, “Well, don’t you love me?”
It took me a few months to be able to say it back and even then I don’t know why I said it when I did. I knew I cared about him but now, deep down I don’t think it was love, at least not then. I know what you’re thinking. What kind of girl fake says “I love you”? Well my mother explained to me once that there are many different kind of love. You never love someone the same way you love someone else. Each love is as unique as the relationship. It was at the time that I just assumed this was the love I felt towards Frank. It wasn’t bad; it just wasn’t as strong as my love had been towards Mr. Granola. That’s how first loves go. They always ruin the rest…
Anyways, I was outside my house; Frank had just dropped me off after a date and he decided to try again with the whole “I love you” thing. Maybe it was because I felt guilty about not saying it the first time, or perhaps I was trying to avoid yet another conversation, or maybe I really did, in that moment think I loved him, but whichever the case I said back to him.
Everything between us was rocky from St. Patrick’s Day on. Prom came and went just as quickly as the year before. The only real difference was there were two of them to go to this year because First Class Frank went to another school. I got my dresses months in advanced, as to prevent any duplicates, and scheduled my hair appointments. One of the dresses had to be totally re-altered because it was two sizes too big. My prom was first. Everything was planned out and I prepped, waxed, tweezed, and crammed myself into the dress. I was so nervous and just wanted the pre prom pictures to turn out well. Frank was running late and when he finally got to my house, he ran to the bathroom. When he came out he looked at me, smiled and said “ok let’s go.” We took our pictures and got in his car.
What happened next could have been a total over reaction but as far as I’m concerned no girl should EVER have to dig for complements, especially from their boyfriends and on the night of Prom. Of all people, Frank knew how much work it took to get me to look that good and he never once complimented me. I wasn’t looking for a soul searching, declaration of love and adoration. No, I was just looking for a simple “Oh you look so nice.” A compliment is something that is so small and should be almost involuntary. I made a point of telling him how handsome he looked first thing when he walked into the house. Well, you can only imagine that he heard about what he had done (actually more like what he hadn’t done), all night.
Oh it was a tense night, not quite as intense as when he did it AGAIN for his own prom. That one was even worst because he made a point of telling all of his girl friends how nice they looked. Unbelievable. And he wanted me to try to sneak in and spend the night at his place while his parents were home? Hell no, that was not happening.
No comments:
Post a Comment