"It seemed to me that I would not meet anyone better": Girls about first love
In the manifesto to the poetic collection of 1912 "The slap in the face of public taste" Vladimir Mayakovsky and David Burliuk assert: "Whoever does not forget his first love, will not recognize the last." But if you put aside romance, this feeling (sometimes pleasant, sometimes quite the opposite), perhaps, should not be forgotten at least in order to get to know yourself better. We asked different girls to remember their first love and tell how it affected their relationships with other people.
Remembering the first love now, when eight years have passed and you can safely assess the situation, I am grateful that it happened. Although then I did not think so. In the tenth grade, we had a small company: two guys and a friend. We spent a lot of time together and in January holidays we decided to visit a former classmate in another city. Despite the fact that I was terribly frozen in sneakers and without a cap, the trip was excellent. We walked along the embankment, laughed, and when my hands froze, he warmed them - it was very nice.
On the way back we walked towards my house, it was already dark. He decided to make an impression and read Blok’s poem "Night, Street, Lantern ..." - but only the first part knew, and I continued with the second quatrain. He smiled and said that we complement each other perfectly. A couple of days later, he suggested that I become his girlfriend and proudly took my hand right at school with all. I am an excellent pupil, and he is not even good - everyone was surprised that we were together. The teachers advised to weigh the pros and cons, but I did not hear anyone. In the summer we went to the beach, read books together, prepared for the eleventh class, thought about where to go - everything was amazing.
After seven months, he said that our views were too different, that I was pulling him in the wrong direction - it was incredibly painful, it seemed to me that my life had collapsed. On the nose The first of September, I sobbed at home in the pillow, constantly drank a sedative. Native Tomsk turned into a solid reminder of him, so I had one goal - to go as far as possible. In July, I went to the budget department of the university in Ivanovo. I squealed with joy: a new city, a million opportunities.
I graduated from the magistracy with a red diploma, as planned. She returned home, and they took me to work, which I could not even dream of when I left. Thanks to the work I met a new love. If I didn’t have those first relationships, I couldn’t have left for another city, I wouldn’t get an excellent education and I would not find a job - and I wouldn’t even have met my current partner. Then, in the eleventh grade, I considered this love unhappy, but she turned into a happy ticket to my new life.
My first serious crush after Nikolay Drozdov, which fell into my soul at the age of five, happened in high school - it was my friend in summer camp and preparing for olympiads. She was incredibly smart, studied in another school, was fond of basketball, wrote beautiful notes to me and smiled mysteriously, until I realized that it was not enough to be friends of her or me.
Relationships lasted a year and a half. The first few months were cool, then mostly nervously and embarrassing: on the one hand, it was cool that we have a "forbidden" novel, which we don’t tell parents and friends, on the other - it was very inconvenient to constantly invent something, hide, don't hold hands on the street and so on. We both had no experience of romantic relationships, especially homosexual, but there were a lot of unrealistic expectations and the idea that the partner should know herself what you need. As a result, we began to get tired of each other, more and more often swear, arranged silent boycotts to each other and threw objects at quarrels - thank God, they never reached the fray.
After some time I went to study in Moscow, and we continued to swear in the messages "VKontakte", by correspondence, and parted. Although it happened rather on my initiative, after the break it was still depressing: the girl’s name was Barbara, so for several weeks I drank wine and listened to the song “Bi-2” about how “sad and very usually everything turned out.” Although we both made a lot of mistakes in relationships, it was an important experience: first, I finally understood that I like girls, and began to position myself as a bisexual, and second, I understood how clear communication and discussion of fundamental issues are important in relations on the shore.
My first love happened in ninth grade - he studied in a parallel stream. Once during a break, he just sat down next to the sofa, I looked at him and immediately fell in love. At the beginning of the tenth, he suddenly began to care for me. It was incredible happiness, although my friends did not understand how I could ever fall in love with him, and they considered him stupid. He treated me strangely, he could say: “You shouldn’t say anything, now the boys are talking,” but I didn’t pay attention to it.
After some time, I found out that he had just argued with someone that he would divorce me for sex - although we had nothing, I couldn’t even think about sexual relations, I was a little girl. We constantly converged, then diverged - before the beginning of the eleventh grade, this happened five times. The first time he threw me in front of a New Year school disco, and I was in mourning all the holidays - and he just became uninteresting when he realized that he would not achieve his goal. But after a while we started dating again, I was still in love with him.
Once we broke up because he told my girlfriend that I had something frivolous for him and he already had a betrothed. In the summer before the eleventh class, he disappeared, we did not communicate at all. Then he suddenly called: "I'm with a friend, come." I called my friend, told me that I would go to him and if anything, I would tell my parents that I spent the night with her. She replied that if I did, she would pledge me to my parents. I was terribly offended then, but looking back, I think that she saved me from a mistake.
It all ended with the fact that we once again broke up, and I realized that I was no longer ready to endure it. I cried bitterly because I was still in love with him - I calmed down only when we finished school and I never saw him again. A couple of years after graduation, I learned that he was put in jail. According to the official version, he beat a policeman, but perhaps there was something else: I heard that he was engaged in car deception.
I was twenty-four years old, I just admitted to myself that I was bisexual. At that moment I was dating a man whom I later married. He had a classmate - a tall, androgynous appearance, a talented violinist in fashionable expensive clothes and men's shoes. For several years we talked in close company of mutual friends.
I dreamed about a lesbian relationship - and found them with this girl. My love for her was a mixture of love, sexual attraction and compassion - she dreamed of building a family with a partner. She also said she loved me, but in reality she tried to suppress my personality all the time. For me, love is freedom: to give opportunities, to give a partner the resources to follow the chosen path and space for development. For her, to love meant to completely dissolve in a partner. Our relationship was based not only on sex, creativity and support (she has a homophobic family), but also violence. She helped me in creative work - but at the same time she suggested that I could not cope without her. After a year of living together, I was scared for myself and we broke up. It was difficult, she sent me a curse on social networks for a long time - but in the end it became clear that there was no understanding between us.
Nevertheless, this relationship helped me explore my orientation, thanks to them I plunged into the theory of polyamory, queer, LGBT, and feminism. Now I'm talking about myself "bisexual" and "polyamorca": I am married and continue to be open to other people. Now it’s hard for me to imagine myself without that story: I began to give more freedom to those I like and not demand anything in return.
It was December 31st. On this day, according to the already established tradition, we met with our childhood friend in the center of our native Yaroslavl to exchange gifts. On the street, nice young people came to meet us. The acquaintance continued in the cafe - he, his friend and my friend and I told each other about ourselves; so we learned that they came for a couple of days to Yaroslavl from Moscow. We exchanged numbers and said goodbye. After a while, the conversation continued: once a month on VKontakte, we told each other news, sometimes we could discuss something for a few days. I liked that we understand each other and look at the world in the same way. I felt interest and from his side, I decided to accept his invitation and come to him to meet in Moscow.
I bought tickets, warned him - but we never met. It disappeared: pages in social networks are blocked, the number is not available. I decided that we could put an end to this story, but the universe had another option: on Arbat we met funny guys, exchanged phone numbers and made an appointment. It turned out that one of them in the list of friends "VKontakte" has the disappeared "hero of my novel." It turned out that my virtual friend was in trouble and left Moscow for an indefinite time. There were no coordinates, no new phone numbers, no other information the guys had about him, but I was sure that it was fate and I had to find it. Due to persistence and successful circumstances, I came across the address of his registration and sent a letter by mail. Two weeks later, he wrote me "VKontakte", spoke about the black band, thanked for the letter and offered to continue to communicate.
I graduated from the fourth year of the College of Culture of Yaroslavl and was preparing to go to university. I chose Moscow: I believed in reciprocity and had no doubt that my move would make us happy. But he was not ready for this, and his dreams remained dreams. I nevertheless entered the Moscow Institute of Culture, and at the end of the second year I met my future husband - again on the street. The illusions about the past have disappeared, we are now married, and we have a wonderful daughter. We still communicate with that young man as friends, congratulate each other on holidays, share news.
I was seventeen, he was twenty. I just entered the first year of university, considered myself very cool and adult. I never thought that this could happen to me, but when I saw him, I immediately felt sympathy: we were in the general company, he noticed me too. We met, talked, drank - and began to kiss in front of friends. After this party, we talked a lot online, a couple of times went on dates. It was winter, it was cold to walk, and poor students could not afford to hang out in a cafe. But every weekend we had fun on the lap with friends. I waited from him the cherished "announce us a couple," but this did not happen. It came from all sides "how lucky you were to find each other", only we were not a couple, and it annoyed me. I wanted to spend more time together, love like in the movies. And here the apocalypse happened.
We celebrated the New Year with a company of mutual friends in my home. He arrived after the chiming clock. He quickly muttered something, shoved flowers and a present, and walked into the room. I decided to express everything I had so diligently concealed and began the interrogation with passion: where I was, why I was late, why we were not together. Surprised by such pressure, he replied: "Well, then we will." To celebrate, I forgot all the insults and dragged him to have fun. Half an hour later, he said that he was going home to congratulate his relatives, but, like Carlson, he promised to return. Four hours later, our mutual friend approached me and said that my newly-made young man went to his ex. Further - as in a fog.
After such a betrayal, I left the year: every day I went to his pages on social networks, I loved him and hated him at the same time. Relations began through the power and she also stopped. It was a hell of a time: I drank a lot, contacted not the best company, met his close friend, tried to get distracted by casual sex - it didn't help. It seemed to me that I would not meet anyone better.
Then I met a nice guy, and all by itself was resolved, although not quickly. I began to think less about what was. And, of course, suddenly met him at a friend's birthday party. Two hours after the awkward meeting, he approached me and apologized, saying that he realized that I had become incredibly cool and would like to try everything again. I so wanted to hear these words! But I realized that in front of me is a slippery guy who doesn’t care what to say. I refused him. Only at that moment really let me go. The most dangerous thing in this story is the idealization of the person with whom I wanted to be. In the fantasies of the “best guy in the world” missed, I spent a year and I don’t want anyone to repeat it.
My first love happened at the beginning of the tenth grade and lived to the first year of university. I was new and wanted to make friends with everyone. A guy in a gray hoodie was sitting behind me in class. I decided to speak first and offered to run off for a break at the boutique, after which we began to talk a lot, wrote a hundred text messages a day, chatted about everything. I fell in love, and it seemed to me that he, too. At recess, we often "accidentally" intersect. Once I saw him chatting with his girlfriend, for some reason I became jealous and quickly passed by, although I heard him call me. After the lessons I was in a terrible mood as soon as I went home. He called, I hung up. And he wrote a very nice text message, in which he invited me to meet with him.
We loved each other, but were so inexperienced that we could not cope with petty quarrels - or maybe there were just other priorities. I was still jealous of his best friend, he did not understand why I go home after class with friends, not with him, and why I don’t want him to meet me after extra classes. After a few months of constant quarrels, we broke up. Then we went to university: school offenses began to pass, and we began to meet again. In late December, he told me that he would meet the new year with a friend. It's a shame was terrible. And suddenly at one o'clock in the morning the phone call: "Look out the window!" Under the window he stood with a box of chocolates and burning sparklers. I got dressed and went outside. He said: "I want to meet such a magical holiday with you." We had fun walking in snowy Moscow.
We spent hours riding the subway and listening to music, our rooms were decorated with joint photos, he came to me with a box of sweets before my operation, gave me flowers. It was like a fairy tale. Despite this, our characters were incompatible. I liked to go to noisy events, but he wanted to spend time at home with a friend. Because of such little things, we quarreled all the time. Tired of this, we parted.
Now I remember this time with a smile, but then it was very painful: to love, but to understand that compromise is impossible. The most difficult was to find support. Once I read on one foreign site about "Breakup Recovery: surviving the end of a relationship" - the best assistant for self-analysis I never met. An ordinary girl describes all the stages that she passed after a hard parting. I read several times, and I had a feeling that she was going through with me, helping and understanding, like no other.
The first love happened to me at the age of nineteen. First of all, my elect conquered me with his appearance (what to do, I was visual): tattoos, fashion clothes and almost the first scooter in Moscow, on which we dissected at night from party to party. Then I could not believe that such a guy would pay attention to me - a little inexperienced girl with a bunch of complexes. It turned out that beneath the external brutality lies a kind and sensitive nature. I was surrounded by care and attention, but I had no experience, and I could not appreciate it sufficiently - and after five years of excellent relations I chose freedom. We parted on my initiative and for a completely banal reason: he wanted a family and children, and I had very different plans for life - study abroad, an interesting job. There was no certainty that my first man should be the only one.
Despite the fact that the separation was very painful, ten years later we managed to maintain good friendly relations. We still have a lot of common friends, we like each other likes in instagram. Although we communicate only virtually and infrequently, he remained close and dear to me. I am glad that I keep only pleasant and tender memories of first love. And I will always be grateful to him.
I first fell in love when I was eleven. It was a friend of my brother, he came to visit us - it was a feeling at first sight. Since he was a friend of his brother, and I was quite small (we have a difference of three years, but at that age it meant a lot), I didn’t even think that it was possible - but I still did not miss the opportunity to talk with him, he is also me was interested in.
Years went by. Я с самого детства увлекалась музыкой и писала стихи - с тех пор как я его встретила, их большая часть была о нём. Я жила с мыслью стать достойной его, своего идеала - это подталкивало двигаться вперёд. У меня появилась группа, она просуществовала семь лет; мы исполняли эти песни, хотя, конечно, никто не знал, о ком они. Всё это время я почти с ним не виделась, но всё равно продолжала о нём думать. Я встречалась с другими, но считала, что это временно. Я думала найти его в соцсетях, но не смогла. Тогда нашла его одноклассника, и тот дал мне его номер. Мы не виделись много лет, начали переписываться и один раз встретились: гуляли, болтали, было классно - но после этого общение как-то загнулось.He disappeared somewhere, but I am very modest and cannot insist if the conversation ends. We talked every six months - told who went to what concert.
Years passed - and then he reappeared in my life: he began to help my mother with a working project. Something broke in me at that moment, I stopped reacting to it - and here, as is usually the case, the guy became more active. We started dating, and it was happiness. I'm not sure that many have experienced such a thing - the twelve years of the preface have been a great influence. But this happiness did not last long - until the first scandal, which he gave me because of jealousy. It turned out that he was a different person - jealous and strange. Everything ended badly: my health deteriorated a lot, I got out of depression only last year, although we have not been together for four years. The moral is this: there are no perfect people, most likely it will all end in a huge disappointment and psychological trauma.
I was twenty years old, I studied in Vitebsk, a small town in Belarus. I liked to go to parties at a local club. There were almost no bans in this place, you could be anyone. I especially liked the fact that it was possible to smoke indoors, albeit in a specially designated place - this is where I met Tanya. I approached her, as if hypnotized, - I do not even remember what I said. Apparently, something stupid: Tanya slapped me in the face. Then everything is in a fog. At some point, I told her that either we will definitely be together, or I will break her heart - and that I will find her, wherever she is. She sat on my lap for a long time, and I whispered in her ear and other people's poems. And then the night is over. I only knew her name and that she was from Minsk.
When I got home, I first painted her portrait, and then I started to suffer. Then I studied in the first year of the design department and wanted to study clothes, but my studies became unbearable. The desire to find Tanya became a mania: I could not think of anything else. As a result, having passed the first session and proving to myself that I "can", I left the university and went to Minsk by hitchhiking. I immediately began to look for Tanya: I made the acquaintance of a huge number of people, entered into the strangest companies, visited any places where I could meet someone who would know about her. And everyone showed that portrait. Three months later I was lucky, and I met a man who gave me a link to her VC profile. It is very strange to recollect it now, but I had no idea that I could impose. I just wrote: "I told you that I would find you." And, oddly enough, she answered.
We began to meet - I experienced a sea of emotions. Then we realized that we did not want to part, and began to live together. In the same period, I told my relatives about the relationship with the girl. Then it became more difficult. For me it was the first experience of living together with a girl, she was also older than me. Tanya was successful and beautiful - and I was young, I left the university, I couldn’t do anything and was completely unprepared for life. We began to quarrel: I projected dissatisfaction with myself on Tanya and our relationship. At first they were quarrels over trifles, then serious scandals. At that time, I began to correspond with another girl from Moscow and found an outlet in it. Once I decided to leave. I don't know what I was thinking then. I hugged and kissed the sleeping beloved woman, said I would be back on Monday, and left for another country.
A month later, I returned to my hometown broken and with the feeling that I had lost, perhaps the most valuable thing I had then. My things were already at my mom's. After some time I dared to write to Tanya. We spent a long time sorting out relationships, I made excuses, and she was able to forgive me. We gathered for another six months, but it was no longer the case. I do not know what she felt, since we did not have the habit of discussing relationships then. Everything seemed to fly into the abyss, and once I left. Rather, asked to leave Tanya. Nothing remained of "us", and for me it has become and still remains a huge trauma. I never experienced such purity and simplicity in communication. Later, I tried to make contact with her, but in vain. I still consider this one of the biggest mistakes in life.
This experience has become very traumatic for me and greatly influenced me. I was desperately searching in all respects for the same emotions and, not finding them, ruined. Over time, my views still changed (which I am very happy about). It became easier for me to look at communication with people, I stopped expecting something incredible, and this greatly simplified interaction with partners. But "first love" will remain "first love."
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