Loves of My Life

The first woman I ever proposed to was my mother, fresh out of kindergarten, down on one knee. I just loved her so much. She was the perfect woman on all counts; single, loving, selfless. I wanted to make her mine forever. And would have, if not for her limitless wisdom. She told me that one day I'd meet another woman, far prettier than her. And although she loved me dearly, she was certain we'd never work out.

Needless to say, I was devastated. But in a matter of minutes I moved on, and so did she. I asked her for a grilled cheese and she obliged with a smile. Simple as that. No heartbreak, no pain. If only my next love was that easy to handle.

--

Ah, Ms. McBride. My beautiful 4th grade teacher. She was tan skinned with long, curly-brown hair that bounced whenever she'd stand from her desk to lead our class to lunch. All my friends wanted her and so did I. The only difference was that I was going to have her and they wouldn't. I was the top athlete of the class after all, and it was painfully obvious that she liked me. I knew it, she knew it, the only person who seemed to miss the boat was her fiance'.

Cheeky bastard.

--

The next girl that stole my heart was much more within my age bracket so I was sure I'd win her over...That's a lie. Quite frankly it was the first girl that I ever loved that was my age so I wasn't sure at all how to approach her. She was two years older than me, her being fifteen at the time. Truthfully I'd had my eye on her since I was ten but something kind of snaps on inside of you when you hit the big 1-3.

I um...liked the way her hips swayed when she walked.

She was my first real crush. I'd point out her position in the cafeteria to my friends and try to show off my speed during soccer practice. I even sent her cards with heart candies taped to the inside during Valentine's day. But nothing ever seemed to work! So one day, during spirit week, I walked straight up to her and stuttered my blubberin' brains out. But I got her to smile!

Oh what a wonderful day that was! Sadly though, I wasn't her type and I ended up switching schools later on that year. Though, that story didn't end completely bad. I switched schools again when I entered high school and ended up attracting her then. But by then I was already in love with the next girl.

--

I met her when we were both fifteen. She had golden, toffee skin, long, lanky strides, and was arguably the most popular girl I'd ever been with. I was really into God at that time so we met in church. I think she was attracted to the immediate attention I was receiving from the youth pastors. Like I said, I was really into God. And as a result, she was too. But that only lasted for four months before she couldn't take it anymore.

She left me cold turkey after hanging out every day for the last 120 days.
This was the most heartbreaking, painful, and hopeless experience I would ever feel, even up til now. I was beyond broken. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, or pay attention in class. Poems became my outlet. That's how I was first introduced to writing, though it would take my last love to show me how much I truly loved it.

For months the pain never left. It stuck with me through every smile I faked, every laugh I forced, and every lanky woman I laid eyes on. And it didn't help at all that we went to the same school.

I consider these the dark times of my life. Those times where you truly feel like you will never be cheery again. That hopelessness was far too real. It saps the life out of you til you feel as though you simply can't go on living. But, time is a healer, and a year and a half later, I was off the respirator and out on the public square.

--

I was seventeen now; single and looovin' it. I had dreaded hair down to my shoulder blades and confidence to spare. I wasn't the man on campus, but I was damn sure one of them. The ladies loved me and I loved them. Kissing this one by day and this one by night. Grab a little of this and they'd grab me right back. It was an exciting time. And that's when I learned something, life is twice as fun when you're single and out of love.

You're free to do whatever you wish, and at the end of the day, you go home thinking about nobody but yourself and the TV screen. Live up those moments and never pass them up. Not until you're ready. And after the last half of that year passed, I was ready.

--

Her name was Alesia. A cute fourteen year old girl with enough affection to smother a pillow with. She won me over completely in a matter of six months and I asked her out straight forward. As you could imagine, a lot of drama surrounded our relationship due to our age difference. I was still seventeen and now junior in high school and she was a fourteen year old freshmen, or freshwoman, as she calls it.

Our relationship was kept completely shut off from the rest of the world as she was terrified of what her mother would think. "If you meet her she will make it so we never speak again." She'd say. I sincerely disagreed but her stance was unyielding and I wouldn't push it further. So that was that, I agreed to wait for her until she was eighteen and until then, we'd meet in secret. And we did.

Every day I'd hop on the city bus and she'd sneak me in and out her bedroom window. I'd even sleep over on nights her mom would come home early; laying cramped in the closet all night long. I lost my virginity during one of those nights and it was terrible, I'll admit. I didn't know what I was doing at all and my glasses slid off my face every time I looked down to check. Eventually the whole thing became a joke and we simply rolled over and laughed until spongebob came on.

We made love every night after that and every night was more beautiful, loving, more passionate than the last. I'd look into her eyes as she'd gasp for breath and wrap her legs around my waste. We didn't use condoms, not even once. We tried, but they restricted me in a way I wasn't willing to tolerate. It was a mistake, I know, but it is hard converting from a pleasure like that.

Though, we were kicking ourselves after the pregnancy scare. Our relationship was illegal after all. To put it bluntly, I was horrified. I'd be going to jail for statutory rape and locked up like a criminal. I'd be labeled a pedophile and be banished from any living space within a 500 yard radius of any schools or playgrounds. I wouldn't even be allowed to spend proper time with our child. I. Was. Petrified.

And rightly so. I got locked up that year, 30 years tops (She had twins). I thought my love life had ended there at the ripe old age of eighteen.

Boy was I in for a surprise.

--

Her name's Bernie, and she's my cellie. Been my cellie for 15 years and my wife for 8. Its a hard thing, living in prison, and even harder to maintain a healthy relationship. Because you see, Bernie's what they call a "Prison Bitch." They ask favors of her and in return they keep us well fed. But I don't like it, so I feel like I'm constantly having to defend my domain. That doesn't come easy and not without retaliation in prison. Over the years, I've had nearly a dozen assassination attempt on my life and not a one of them has succeeded, plenty stab wounds, but I'm still here.

To be honest, I don't know how my love life will be after I leave prison. I'll be forty-seven by that time so I still have a ways to go. I'll have to leave Bernie behind though, I know that. She's serving two life sentences for reasons I can't specify. Sorry, she doesn't like to talk about it. Well...

--

Til next time.