It got me thinking. In six weeks, I'll be marrying my high school sweetheart. We met when I was fourteen years old. Earlier, if you count that he was in my sister's first grade class. We first started talking over instant messenger. But I remember thinking in those first few conversations that he was "the one". And not the one that I would share my first kiss with (I did) or the one I would pass notes with (I did that, too). I was wanting that "he'll put a ring on my finger, we'll cook spaghetti every night, I'll have his babies and we'll grow old together" kind of love. And I got it. Or, I'm getting it.
But how many stories end up like that?
I was a supervisor for an After School Program at the local middle school about four years back. It was one of my all-time favorite jobs (which is really not saying much). I loved that the kids were still a little awkward, but looked to you for all of the answers. I loved that there was still such a thing as "cool". I loved that I was watching so many young girls fall into the magical time of suspecting that every guy is "the one". I watched relationships begin, endure for a few weeks of smiles in the halls and the occasional recess-flirt, then taper off and end with a heartbroken girl and a generally triumphant guy. I felt sorry for the silly girls, but I felt equally blessed by how my life has been different.
I didn't have Miley Cyrus telling me that any guy could be "the one", but I happened to find a guy - the first guy - who would love me in all of the ins and outs of growing up. I found someone who was symbiotic to my personality and dreams. I found someone who was kind, smart, handsome, and better yet, interested in marrying me. That only comes along once or twice in a lifetime.
Maybe I shouldn't have put all of my eggs in one basket, so to speak, when I met my first love. Maybe I should have weighed more of my options. I tried at this, failed, and ran back to the only person I've ever considered being "the one". And every awkward and terrifying growing-up moment has been spent with him. My only real regret from our relationship early on is that I should have kept my eyes open for our first kiss.
I suppose all this can be summed up by saying that I'm lucky. I wouldn't advise my daughter to plan on her first boyfriend being "the one". In fact, I wouldn't advise her to label any relationship as quickly as I did.
In my case, Miley was right. He is truly, undeniably something special.
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