LetusPonder Column:
Do You Truly Get Over Your First Love?

- Rob Daugherty

Always looking for interesting ways to spark conversations and things to write about, I ventured over to Answerology.com.  The following question was posed and I found myself thanking her for a nice trip down memory lane.  This column is more personal than usual, but the personal touch is needed in order for me to truly share my philosophy on relationships past and future.

The Question

Everyone believes that your first love is special -- do you believe that you never truly "get over" your first love?

If you have had more than one true love in your life, please tell me from personal experience... in what ways does the saying hold true? In what ways have your other love(s) surpassed your first? If it IS true, how can anyone who has loved in the past expect to love and marry someone else in the future?

If you HAVE "gotten over" your first love, how long did it take? Were you involved in other relationships before you were COMPLETELY over it? Were you constantly comparing your new b/f or g/f with them? What was the breaking point, when you finally realized that you were over them completely?

That's a lot of questions.  I'll see what I can do to answer them.

I agree with what you stated; my first love was indeed special.  And yet, no matter how wonderful she may have been, that doesn't take away from the many other incredible people I've met over the years. 

Allow me the pleasure of revisiting my past...

I was just a good 'ole boy from Missouri.  I was popular and well-liked by all, but I was never in the "IN" crowd.  My first love - Chris - was a cheerleader; not because of the permanent peppy-ness but because of the gymnastics.  She was a little hottie, well-to-do, popular, "IN" crowd, yada yada.  As a naïve high school sophomore, she introduced me to so many things - nice restaurants, parties that were fun and more social-based (I thought people went to parties just to get drunk), kissing that didn't always lead to sex, sex (sorry Mom), eating with the right fork, divorced parents and that whole dynamic (mine weren't, hers were), and so many, many other things.  It is because of her, a natural redhead, that I always give redheads a second look.  And it is because of her that I started coming out of my shell to experience the world.

She ended up having to go to another high school and the two of us sort of got caught up in our own situations and grew apart.  A few years later we ran into each other and ended up having a night of no-strings-attached, we-live-in-different-states, rekindled passion.  That night summed up what we shared perfectly -- so comfortable, so young, no limits, laughs, gentle touches, bruises-in-the-morning passion, familiarity, appreciation, and yet another step into the next stages of our lives.

We've spoken together just once since that time.  It was a very warm, loving conversation.  Did we say, "Let's get back together again?"  No.

We said, "Thank you."

The good 'ole boy goes off to college.  Junior year he meets Cindy. When I first saw Cindy, I knew something was going to happen between us.  But here she was a stunningly beautiful and smart freshman in an engineering school with the guy/girl ratio of something like 6 to 1.  In other words, for every one girl, there were six horny guys after her.  Why the hell would she want to be with plane 'ole me?  Plus, she had style, pizzazz, hipness, cutting edge -- Interview magazine got fashion ideas from her, it seemed.  And me, I wore blue-jeans, sneakers, and white socks.

And I played drums, which is how we met.  Skipping all the scintillating details of how we got together, the two of us shared what I would consider the ideal relationship.  We communicated on everything.  We never went to sleep mad.  We so very much loved each other.  I had a picture of my ideal woman long before we met and it was she.

Thanks to her, I really learned what it was to truly be in a relationship.  I grew from a silly college kid to something of an adult when it comes to being with someone I loved.  When I think of Cindy, I honestly cannot think of one negative thing about her.

She's married now.  We spoke several years ago and it was quite nice to hear her voice.

Cindy decided to major in English Lit. and moved 4 hours away.  But that's not the reason we didn't work out.  The reason Cindy and I didn't work out...  I matured, but not completely: Her name was Cyndi.  Same name, spelled differently.  Cyndi was a good friend, a professional dancer (who was one of the St. Louis pro football cheerleaders), incredibly smart, beautiful, etc. etc.  After a particularly grueling weekend of dance, she came to me needing a massage.  Thus began my longest relationship with someone I totally thought was out of my league.

I grew more with Cyndi than any other.  I also made more mistakes with her.  Having started out as an affair while BOTH of us were in very happy, long-term relationships, we both grew to understand ourselves better.  She eventually moved out to DC with me and we lived with each other for almost 2 years.

During this time, since we truly communicated and shared everything, we realized that we were basically great friends who live together and sometimes have sex.  We even stayed together for another six months after we discussed this, while both of us helped each other find a place to live.

From there, I met Violeta from the Czech Republic.  Oh, how I loved her.  I found her accent and her having grown up in a foreign country so fascinating.  We had a relatively brief life together.  I changed careers and she decided she missed her family and her native country too much to bear.  After a tearful goodbye, we parted ways.

I met Gin at a time when neither of us really knew what we wanted (but we thought we did at the time).  My life took a major turn thanks to her.  We spoke several years later -- I had married and divorced, she realized she was a lesbian.  I talk to her, really talk, more than any other person now and I consider her a very dear and valuable friend.  A long list of positive adjectives would not do her justice.

Diane is the one that got away -- the one that when we talk, we play with the idea of fate allowing us to finally be together in 10-20 years once our children are grown and we can once again share at least the same area code.  Other than my family, Diane has been in my life more than any other person.  (I recalled a time with Diane, something you can read in my little ditty, 'Twas But a Kiss.")

One of the nicest things about Diane is that even though we may not talk for months at a time, there is a little part of her always in my mind, a little part that always reminds me that life is good, that there are things always to look forward to.

There have been a few others (I've been lucky; only one that was a disaster, one that reminds me to always follow my instincts -- unfortunately, the one I married and am now fighting just to see my children more). 

While I think of each girl with the fondest of memories, the VERY fondest, I can honestly say that we are all different people than when we were together.  I loved all of them very much, but I have no desires of passion, no cravings to be with them.  They are simply excellent memories.

One of your questions was how does the next girl surpass the first?  None of them surpassed each other since, thanks to them, I grew into a different person and grew to want and/or appreciate different things.  I could never compare any of my past loves any more than I can compare juicy, crunchy apples.  When you eat an apple, you probably don't think, "Holy moly!  THIS apple is SO much better than the last one I had."  No, instead you think, "This apple tastes SO freaking good.  I am loving life!"

Such is the case with me.

When did I realize I was over them? 

Well, just in the last few days I've come to realize that I was over my latest relationship.  I realized it in this way...

Later this week, I am driving 5-6 hours to visit Gin.  My latest love was someone I so thoroughly enjoyed spending time with.  But while thinking of this drive, I found myself trying to think of some way to invite another girl along.  This other girl is only someone I see occasionally at work and out-and-about.  But something about her intrigues me.

I've realized that when I become intrigued with someone - TRULY intrigued to the point of wanting to learn all about them and how they think and their likes and dislikes, etc. etc.  (instead of simply finding them attractive and wanting to have sex with them -- I am a guy, after all, so there IS a difference), then that's a sign that I am definitely over the past girl and ready to move on.

How long did this take?  This last girl it took just a few months.  For the others, the time varied from a month to six months.  And it doesn't seem to matter if a breakup is mutual or throwing-things-across-the-room scream-fest awful; I still reminisce the good times (and I remember the bad).  It all came down to if someone or some thing else came along to occupy my thoughts and my passions.

How can anyone who has loved in the past expect to love and marry someone else in the future?  Easy.

Being open to relationships isn't about being open to getting hurt again.  Past relationships aren't about the bad that happened.  It's about the good that comes out of them.  I love to love.  I love to learn about someone, to grow, to share, to see things from a new perspective.  All this comes when you meet someone new.

Have I been hurt in the past?  Sure I have.  Have I been incredibly happy in the past?  Hell yes.  And I plan on continuing to accumulate happy experiences as I continue to learn and grow and live and eat those incredible, juicy, crunchy apples.

Now, if only I can find a way to invite that girl along on my trip...

Thank you for allowing me a nice trip down memory lane.