Other than crazy parents and siblings, Mr. Granola was amazing. We had been official bf/gf for about a month and a half when I received a text message from him. I didn’t get it until the morning after it was sent but it was obvious that the sender, Mr. Granola, had in fact been drinking. It stated, “I knwq t this s erally soooon an I’m estoj but I love you.” Drunken translation: “I know that this is really soon and I’m drunk but I love you.” Twenty minutes after I read that, I got a call from him. It was the “I’m sorry, I know I was drunk and I don’t remember what I wrote” speech. It was bull. I knew his phone kept a record of out going text messages. I was glad I hadn’t responded though. I didn’t mention it or bring it up.
He came over after school the next day. We were lying on the couch in the office. He looked at me and said, “I lied to you. I know what I wrote in that text message. I just didn’t want that to be the time I said it. I love you.” Whoa. This was the first time anyone had said that to me, I mean other than family and friends. And he was fully admitting that he said it first in a drunken text message. Of course, how else could it go, this is me we’re talking about.
But was I ready to say it back? Did I know the meaning of love? Do I know the meaning of love even now? I knew I would do anything for him and as far as I was concerned, at the age of seventeen, that meant love. So I said it back. He smiled and then kissed me. It was kind of perfect.
The school year flew by as did my time with Mr. Granola. Parties and prom came and went. Prom was perfect. It was the cliché high school prom everyone dreams of. I had my dress, simple and black, my hair done, pulled back into a gigantic bun and a beautiful Boho necklace I found up North over spring break. I was outfitted to the T. And company for the evening? I felt that I should let Mr. Granola hang out with his friends as it was his last prom. I didn’t really know the group we went with but we had fun nonetheless. For dinner we went to a fancy restaurant where I ate ostrich and for dessert, kumquat ice cream.
At our school, our prom had a “Senior Walk” where the senior class entered the room with their dates and were announced over the loud speaker. The Senior Walk was the highlight of the night. It was a big deal to be a junior in the senior walk. All my friends stood by to watch as Mr. Granola and I walked by. I felt pretty bad ass.
The year coming to an end meant one thing for me and Mr. Granola. We needed to talk about what was going to happen with him leaving for college. It wasn’t something either of us wanted to discuss but it became more and more difficult to avoid. Everything finally came out when I was on the way to meet his grandparents. I broke down and started balling. The verdict: we would be ending things but would enjoy the rest of the summer together while we could. I had mixed feelings about this. I knew it was the best decision so I wouldn’t get hurt more down the road but it was also hard to know there was a time limit.
Things got more difficult after we slept together. It was my decision. I wanted him to be my first everything. I was hesitant about doing “the deed” but I knew I loved him and I knew I would never regret doing it with him. To this day, I still don’t regret it. I’m glad he was my first.
So here come the juice details of my not so romantic evening. While it wasn’t romantic I did laugh the entire time which is the true reason I am so fond of the memory of the evening and why I do not regret any of it. It started off with him flat out asking me, “Do you want to have sex?” You had to give the kid credit for his honesty and blunt nature. It wasn’t the first time he had asked either. It was more like the twelfth time. But for some reason, this time I felt comfortable with it. I knew what all it entailed and the responsibility of it. So, I said yes. I think my answer stunned the poor boy. He gave me a look of shock, then smiled and threw me over his shoulder and ran into his bedroom. We both started laughing at the seriousness of the event. We had successfully started when all of a sudden we heard footstep charging down the stairs. His dad…. Or at least that’s what we thought when we heard the noise. He immediately jumped off of me and ran to hide in his closet. “Go to the bathroom, now” was the only thing he was able to get out before he closed the door. I got to my feet and scrambled to the bathroom. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Once again, this was just my luck.
I waited for what seemed like forever. Finally I heard a knock on the door. I opened it a smidgen and saw a very naked Mr. Granola standing in front of me. He sighed and said, “It was my sister running upstairs.” Wow. There are no words to describe the relief I felt. Needless to say, we never finished the “deed” that night.
While I enjoyed the new found closeness, it made the goodbye that much harder. And the goodbye was difficult, let me tell you! I cried for what seemed like days and didn’t eat anything for just as long. He cried too. I wrote him a letter, a thank you letter. Overly cheesy, yes, but I felt like I didn’t get to say what I wanted to when we ended things and every time I tried to call I would end up sounding like a hysterical mess.
It took about two weeks of being miserable to get over myself and eat real food again. I lost some ridiculous amount of weight, along with my childhood innocence, and the first guy I ever loved.
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