My first real boyfriend was a guy named Steven. I’m not talking my first puppy love, but the first guy I stuck around with for any length of time. His name was Steven. We were together for 13 months during high school. We remain friends to this day.
Steven and I were attracted to each other from the moment we met. He walked with me on my hour long trek home from school, just to spend time with me. It was a long walk, and our school books were heavy, but it didn’t matter because we were both lost in how attracted we were to one another… but too shy to do anything about it, yet. My mom didn’t allow company in the house while she was at work, so when we got to my house, we went to the backyard and hung out back there. He didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want him to leave, and there was enough sexual tension to cut with a knife. Right before he said his goodbyes and we said we’d see each other tomorrow, I quickly leaned in and kissed him. It had all of the makings of an after school special. Later he confided in me that he wanted to kiss me, but I beat him to it. I was the first girl who was ever that forward with him.
Steve was a bad boy. He did things he didn’t tell me about because he didn’t want to involve me. He used to sneak out at night, sometimes he’d be gone for a couple days on end and his mom would tell me she had no clue where he went. He cheated on me a couple times while I lived outta town. He ended up with an ankle bracelet on and house arrest. I still loved him. Even though I lived 45 minutes away, I’d convinced my mom to let me work on the weekends in town, and then after work I’d go over to Steve’s house and she’d pick me up from there.
The majority of our relationship was spent in this little bedroom with a giant king sized waterbed in it. Not because we were having sex (because his parents and brother were pretty good at preventing that from ever happening)… we just hung out in his room to have some privacy and get away from his parents. I never had any problems with his parents, but he did. I think everyone hates their parents at one point in the game or the other.
On our one year anniversary, I arranged to spend the night in town with one of my girlfriends. Everything was set into place, and I was so excited about spending the day with my Love. Except he had other plans. I showed up at his house, and he wasn’t there.
He totally stood me up.
I was devastated, but I couldn’t do anything about it. We only got to see each other on the weekends, and he’d blown off our chance to hold one another and be together to be with his boys off making deals or whatever it was he found to fill his time.
Shortly after that, I couldn’t handle my mom anymore, and I ran away. I was afraid if I kept in contact with Steven while I was on run, that the cops would find me. My parents knew exactly where he lived, and despite how much his parents loved me, I didn’t think they would have offered me asylum. I didn’t want to go back home, so I stayed away. I cut all contact with Steve, and I didn’t look back. My feelings were still very hurt over being stood up on our anniversary, and eventually I fled into the arms of Superdad. Back then he was just my best friend. We talked about everything together. I guess the chaos of being on run and the paranoia of knowing that my grandparents were good friends with people on the police force and the DA clouded my brain, and we were just in the moment of everything. Before Superdad and I actually kissed or anything, I’d decided that if Steve didn’t think I was important enough to be with on our anniversary, then I didn’t want to be his girlfriend anymore.
He found that out about a month later.
I still regret the way I broke up with him to this day. It was shitty, and I know that. And I’ve apologized to him probably 100x, but to me I’ll never be able to apologize enough. I was his first love, and even years later, he kept trying to get me to come back to him. He swore he realized what he’d lost, and he just wanted me back again. He offered to raise Reagan as his own. He did the same thing when Ian was born. And when I had Madison, and I thought I was finally ready to leave Superdad and be with Steve again- he had finally got over me. Karma at its finest I guess, right? That’s what I get for thinking he’d always stick around. I always thought of him as my Plan B.
Fast Forward ten years. Steve and I lost touch for awhile, but right before I got pregnant with Poppy, I found him again. We got really close that summer. Even cried together on the phone and had several heart-to-hearts. Nothing sexual, we are just very close friends.
We lost touch again right after Poppy was born, because I always become a hermit after my babies are born. Something about being sleep deprived and having spitup on me that doesn’t make me feel especially social and kinda kills the desire to go hang out with people. But I found him again right around Poppy’s first birthday I think? And we’ve been keeping in touch for the past year. He was having a hard time getting a job, so I had Christopher hook him up and now they work together. I joke that Christopher gets to spend more time with him than I do.
Recently we had to move, and Steven helped us move almost everything. He was a godsend, and I appreciate everything he’s done for us. We are staying with my inlaws now, who ironically live right around the corner from where Steven lived when we were kids.
Driving by his old house is surreal. And I do it almost daily now.
I pulled over the other day for a brief moment in front of his old house. I just stared up in the upstairs windows, and for a second I remembered walking up the stairs… turning to the right, and walking into his bedroom. I remembered his soft music, and laying on his bed, and talking about everything and nothing all the same.