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By JD Date: 2005 Jan 09 Comment on this Work [[2005.01.09.01.14.25250]] |
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There was my grade eight boyfriend, whom my best friend used to call Texan Boy because he spoke like an eighty year old man, trying to remember where he put his dentures, which has nothing to do with Texas, but nonetheless, he reminded her of a cowboy. I never knew why we broke up. Oh yes. He came from old money. I had none. There was Rell Noel Gingerell- I'm not joking. That's his real name. It was grade nine and I was hanging around the bus station way too long when I saw him, leaning against a pole like James Dean or Kevin from the Wonder Years- no relation. Our first fight was about his purple pants. He wore them, I laughed. That was that. Then my first love happened. You know the story. Two teenagers, two summers, two broken hearts. It ended because of me, because of you, because of oceans, and long distance bills, and my laziness to buy stamps, and a myriad of things that I can never explain to you without hurting you. And now there's you, the last stepping stone, the culmination of my sordid love life. You've given me everything that my past was never able to provide. You know what it's like to use pennies to buy a carton of milk. You'd never wear purple pants. And even though you have a fit of jealousy whenever I mention the first guy I ever truly loved, I'm not worried because I don't need to learn how to swim just to see you, it won't cost me a dollar per minute to hear your voice, and my favourite part of it all is that I never have to send you a single letter- unless I want to. And that's why the list of boyfriends ends with you. |