My First Sting With Love

She’s intelligent, funny, giving, caring, sincere and trustworthy. A petite 5’3, around 120 pounds, olive complexion, flawless skin, beautiful long dark brown hair and an amazing body. This is a short list of some of the characteristics of my first love. She’s from the Mediterranean, and for the sake of nicknames, we’ll call her “B.”

We met in college, and although we had an intro class together my first year at that school, it wasn’t until the end of my junior year that we became close. I was fortunate to get a year back of athletic eligibility for hoops, so I was going to have my whole summer and two more semesters up in Amish country (aka Lancaster, Penn.).

I planned on staying around school that summer to be a gym rat and relish in my last year of zero responsibilities, so B and her roommate offered me the opportunity to crash at their place, because they were going back home for the summer. Rent free, bill free, Free.99–how could I say no to that type of hospitality?

Her roommate left before she did, so B and I co-habitated for a few weeks before she went back overseas. It was pretty clear that we were into each other, so living under one roof was definitely a recipe for trouble.

We ended up conversing throughout the summer, and the vibe was there. We both looked forward to her return that September. We spent a lot of time together that school year, and I was into her, but I was still out here acting a fool. Selfish, I know, but that’s just what I was on at the time.

At that time, the concept of being with one woman was beyond foreign. I tried and failed miserably. I simply wasn’t there. I think my concept and perception was very juvenile and basic at that time, and the maturity was lacking. I guess it was all a part of my learning curve.

In theory (and in practice), I totally understand the concept of having a main, a side, and whatever else on the side, but I don’t agree with it.

In hindsight, that’s a lot of work, time and effort. It’s hard enough trying to learn about one person, who you’ll never really know 100 percent, let alone four or five other people, too.

Anyway, I digress…

I finished school and she had one more year left, so I would shoot up to school and check her out from time to time. We were getting closer and more serious. So I guess now would be a good time to bring this subject to the table–interracial dating.

I know I’m not the only one out here that has dabbled in said swirl. Let me tell you, it was something that I was conscious of–I was really into her–but I also loved my sisters. Would I be labeled as another one that drifted to the other side?

It seems the black and white thing is magnified in the U.S. I could be wrong, but that’s just my perception. I’m not here to fight that fight, but I am here to say that it was something that was on my mind. I guess depending on who you ask, some would say she was white and some would say she wasn’t. I think subconsciously for me, it was there, but I don’t know how much of an affect, if any, that truly had on how much I was into her.

Additionally, I can’t really say that would have been a factor in regards to me being in a monogamous relationship with her. I don’t remember catching too much heat for dealing with her. Then again, maybe I didn’t pick up on it, or maybe I just didn’t give a f*ck.

From my point of view, things seemed to be going pretty well in our relationship.

She met my family and everyone loved her. She lived life carefree. She wasn’t reckless, but her spirit was open and genuine.

Things came to a fork in the road when her father became ill. She had to head back overseas, and we thought her stay back home would be temporary, so we Skyped and AIM chatted all the time, but it seemed evident that due to a bunch of circumstances, she wasn’t coming back to the states.

We continued to keep in contact, and basically had an off and on long-distance relationship. I even went to visit her for a week, but she literally never came back to the states.

In all honesty, I was pretty salty about it. I figured at some point she would come back and we would keep this situation rolling, but she didn’t.

She probably doesn’t even know this, but I learned a lot from her about myself, about the world, and about life. She was really, really dope to me. I tried to remain friends with her, and check on her via social media, but she became unresponsive. She literally disappeared. No social media, no emails, no nothing. She was totally off the grid.

And then a few years went by…

Leave it to Facebook, the newsfeed of our generation, to tell me that she was engaged through her sister’s page. With my eyebrows totally raised, I sent her sister a message to send my well wishes. All of 20 minutes later, I received a phone call from a foreign number. It was B.

In my head I’m thinking, ‘We haven’t spoken in about two or three years, and now you’re calling me? Why?’ But I always had love for her, and I was curious where this was going, so I answered. I asked a few questions, told her I loved her and wished her well.

Five years later, we cross paths again. B popped up on my Instagram.

We ended up chatting and catching up. She had a child and was going through a split with her husband. She was someone I constantly spoke to while going through my own split, too. She was there to support and listen to me. It’s always weird how things play out.

So as far as where we’re at now—we’re real cool now and we keep in contact.

Ironically, someone recently asked me if I thought she was the one that got away. I really don’t know, but I can at least say the thought has crossed my mind before.

As of now we’re just friends, and I think we’re both cool with that. Anything other than that, I’ll have to quote the recently retired Kevin Garnett and say, “Anything’s possible!”

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