The small town where I grew up didn’t have too much excitement to offer a young teenager like me. The best we could hope for was to drive up and down main street hoping to see one of our friends or go hang out at someone’s house.
I remember I had only recently gotten my driver’s license but didn’t have a car of my own yet. My dad would let me borrow his truck though, provided I didn’t bring it home with an empty tank, since he had to drive it to work the next day.
I also realized that having a set of wheels, even if they were borrowed, suddenly made you a lot cooler than you were before. Not sure how I felt about that, but I grabbed at any straw I could to surround myself with more friends and find something fun to do.
On one particular weekend, a friend of mine came over to see if I wanted to go for a drive. While we were out, he said he wanted to go over to his girlfriend’s house and hang out for a while. He then told me that her mom and dad were out of town for the night, so she had the house all to herself, which meant we could do whatever we wanted, since there were no grownups around. I said, sure, sounds fun, let’s go!
When we got there, he and his girlfriend introduced me to one of his girlfriend’s friends from school. His girlfriend invited her for a sleepover, so she wouldn’t be alone all night. I remember her being a short girl with brown hair. She seemed kind of quiet. I had never seen her before, but I kind of liked her. I got the feeling she liked me too, but I figured maybe that was just because there was no one else around. I guess I found it sort of hard to believe that a girl this cute could possibly be attracted to me.
I don’t remember how it happened for sure, but I know we ended up getting more and more cozy. I found it wasn’t something I even had to think about. Everything just flowed. It just felt right. It was like I was on autopilot, knowing exactly what I was supposed to do without even thinking about it. I guess it was animal instincts, or maybe I was imitating old movies. Who knows, but there was definitely gravity between us.
I remember our lips meeting for the first time. They were surprisingly soft, and the way she kissed was very sensual, like she was putting some part of her soul into it. I couldn’t help but return it back to her.
I remember our lips meeting for the first time. They were surprisingly soft, and the way she kissed was very sensual, like she was putting some part of her soul into it. I couldn’t help but return it back to her. Though we hadn’t practiced or rehearsed, we soon found our tongues entwined. I’m not sure about her, but this was definitely my first French kiss. It was also the most incredible thing I had ever experienced, and honestly, until this day, I don’t think I have ever had a more passionate kiss than that first one. Maybe what they say is true, that the first kiss is the best one.
At some point, I remember somehow ending up in one of the bedrooms with her. We were completely wrapped around each other in a passionate embrace, while our tongues wrestled with each other. I remember at one point the other pair poked their head in the door, probably to see if we were out of our clothes.
I figured, we can take it slow, and make sure everything is perfect. We had all the time in the world after all.
There were a lot of thoughts running through my head as we lay there making out with each other. I really wanted to do more, and everything just felt right, but I also didn’t want her to think I just wanted one thing. I really liked her, and I felt like she liked me. I figured, we can take it slow, and make sure everything is perfect. We had all the time in the world after all.
Eventually, it came time to go. I still had a curfew after all. I could tell she wanted me to stay the night, and I wanted more than anything to do that, but I had to get my dad’s truck home. I left her with a long kiss, and me and my friend headed home for the night. It had been an incredible evening, and I was so incredibly giddy. All was right with the world, and I couldn’t wait to see her again.
I think I met the girl I’m supposed to spend my life with tonight.
When I got home that night, my grandmother was waiting up, as always. She wanted to make sure I got home safely before she could go to bed herself. I remember I told her something that night. I said, I think I met the girl I’m supposed to spend my life with tonight. She was a bit surprised by this but seemed happy for me. I don’t remember much of the rest of that conversation though, because I was too dreamy eyed about my new love.
The next day came, and I wanted to see her again, so I found out where she lived from my friend. It turned out that she lived on a farm in the country, and it was quite a drive from town. I knew I could get there by borrowing my dad’s truck, but it was quite a gas guzzler. I’d have to find some way to replace the fuel it burned up. It wasn’t a huge expense, but I was a poor teenager after all.
While standing there in my room, banging my head against the wall trying to figure something out, a notion struck me. I happened to look at my dresser and noticed the piggy bank sitting there. This wasn’t actually a piggy bank though, as it was shaped like a bull, but it served the same purpose. It had a slot in the back of the head where you put coins, and you could take them out at the base when you needed them. There was just one problem with my sudden epiphany. This was not any ordinary piggy bank. This was a gift from my father’s dad who had passed away some time before. He had put most of the coins in that bank for me. I never had the nerve to spend any of it, because I knew this was all I had left from him. I was struck with sadness just contemplating it, but I didn’t know what else to do.
I really couldn’t believe what I was doing. I was sacrificing some part of my family heritage for a girl I had just met the night before.
I reluctantly opened the piggy bank at the bottom and rolled all the coins to take with me. I really couldn’t believe what I was doing. I was sacrificing some part of my family heritage for a girl I had just met the night before. In my mind, I was thinking, it will be fine. This is the girl I want for life. I believe he will understand. It did bring a very serious question to mind though, exactly how much would I be willing to sacrifice for a girl? I would revisit this question again later in life.
That evening, I picked up my friend, then spent all my grandfather’s savings fueling up my dad’s truck for a trip to her house. It was a long drive, and part of the road was kind of muddy. When we arrived, I met her parents. They seemed very nice, especially her mom. I also figured out she had other siblings. The visit was pleasant enough, but definitely not the same with parents around. I was hoping I made a good impression.
He told her she was to break it off and not see me anymore. I was heartbroken, but what was I to do. I had to respect her dad’s wishes.
The next day came, and then I found out something that totally crushed me. Going out to her house had tipped her dad off that I might be wanting to be her boyfriend. I don’t think he was ready for that, seeing as we were still young. He told her she was to break it off and not see me anymore. I was heartbroken, but what was I to do. I had to respect her dad’s wishes.
A few nights later, I was driving around with my friend again, still distraught about losing this girl I was crazy about. I then said, I don’t know, maybe she didn’t really like me in the first place. He then looked at me rather seriously and said, next time you see her, ask her to show you her leg. I was like, what do you mean? He said, just ask her. He then said, I know where she’s at right now. She’s staying with a friend in town. Let’s go by and see her, and then you can ask her.
There on her leg near the ankle was a fading scar spelling out my initials, having been cut into her flesh with a razor blade.
I wasn’t sure if I should, but my curiosity was definitely peaked, so I agreed. We arrived at the house, and he called her outside. She and I talked for a moment, and then I finally said, I know this is odd, but my friend said I should ask you to show me your leg. She looked at me a little shocked. She then said something I didn’t quite understand. She said, it’s starting to go away. She then put her leg up beside me so I could see it plainly and started rolling down her sock. There on her leg near the ankle was a fading scar spelling out my initials, having been cut into her flesh with a razor blade.
Were you excited to get your driver’s license? How did you beat boredom as a teenager? Did you have a particular friend you liked to hang out with? Do you remember your first affectionate kiss? Do you remember the first person you thought was the one? Isn’t everything more fun without grownups? What’s your experience with a sleepover? Would you have cashed in that piggy bank? What would you have done differently? Is teenage love the most intense? What do you think about someone feeling something so deeply that they cut themselves as a release? Let me know what you think in the comments, and don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe!
Ken's Life 