Today we have Angela Morrison, author of TAKEN BY STORM guesting for us about her experience with First Love. And in her case (as is the case for so many of us), she definitely draws a distinction between first love and true love! For more information about Angela and her books, check out her
website!
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First LoveAngela Morrison
I have to stretch my memory clear back to junior high for my first real love. My mom remarried that year, and we moved in with my dad and his kids out on the farm near Tekoa, Washington, where Taken by Storm is set.
I fell madly, shyly, painfully in like with this boy in my class who I was convinced was the cutest male walking the earth. Blonde hair, dark blue eyes, nice tan. As smart as me, but athletic, too. Point guard in basketball, quarterback for the football team. And for awhile there, he liked me back.
He was sweet, funny, kind, and perfect. But I was mortified and awkward about everything. And way uptight because I was
so not supposed to have a boyfriend until I was sixteen. And, of course, he wasn’t a Mormon like me. He finally got tired of waiting for me to grow up and get a clue. Halfway through eighth grade, he dumped me and went out with the most beautiful girl known to humanity who lived in a neighboring small town. That didn’t last long, but it was still mortification overload.
Some time after all that, we were together at a dance at somebody’s house—probably the last party at someone’s house I ever went to. Dancing and soft drinks didn’t cut it in high school. He kept asking me to dance and sat by me. We were slow dancing, and he tried to kiss me, and surprised into panic, I jerked away from it.
He said, “Okay, if that’s how you want to be.”
I was mortified, once more, but managed to whisper, “It isn’t. Try again.”
I still remember that kiss. Way better that the dry little pecks he’d coaxed out of me before. My lips actually worked.
I’d like to say we got back together after that and were boyfriend and girlfriend all through high school. I would have loved that, but another girl from that same wretched town moved to Tekoa. She was everything I wasn’t. Athletic. Outgoing. Fun. Older. She was perfect for him in ways I couldn’t ever dream to compete with. They got together and stayed together.
I remained painfully in like.
I still feel it. A tiny twist of regret, the twinge of “what if.” As his girl friend, high school would have been so different. I would have kept getting elected cheerleader instead of losing out after my freshman year. No guy would have grabbed my butt or said vile things to me. I wouldn’t have got groped on the bus. I would have gone to my senior prom.
Don’t feel too sorry for me. I went to three proms that year—just not mine. And dated a beautiful Mormon guy from Spokane that I was way more than in like with.
Still a lot of bad things wouldn’t have happened.
But I would have missed out on good things that
did happen. With a boyfriend like that at home, I probably wouldn’t have been so eager to run off to fiction writing workshops where I learned from real writers for the first time. (And fell in love a couple more times—hence those three proms.) And can you imagine a popular cheerleader, dating the QB, going to anything as nerdy as the International Future Problem Solving Bowl in Lincoln, Nebraska? I was rejected and unpopular and free to do just that. There I became soul mates with an LDS girl from New York. Later at BYU, she set me up on a blind date with her cousin who is still the love of my life.
When you decide to do a feature on “true love,” I’ll tell you all about that!