The Love Meter
This being Valentine's Day, I thought it would be appropriate to tell you a love story. Be forewarned that this one does not have a fairytale ending. Here goes....
I was cleaning out my dresser drawers a while back and stumbled upon my old silver charm bracelet, a Christmas present from my mom when I was 14. Charm bracelets are like scrapbooks for the wrist...and mine, being no exception, holds a multitude of memories.
There is a sauna bucket from my trip to Finland, a bullfrog that takes me back to the summer my bad boy cousin "Frog" from Elliot Lake stayed with us, and a miniature clarinet from my days in the school orchestra. There are others too, but the charm that prompted today's story is a love meter, given to me by my first sweetheart when I was 15.
In my adolescent mind, Robbie was one cool heart-stopping cat. He had sleek black hair and chocolate brown eyes that a girl could easily get lost in. He had full lips that just begged to be kissed. And he had a way of moving - a nonchalant saunter...to watch him walk down the hall was about all my newly discovered hormones could handle.
Our first foray into romance came at the end of Grade 9, when we were having a class party at my friend's cottage. Robbie had a motor bike, and he and I snuck off for a ride. Unfortunately, the bike broke down about five kilometres from the party, and we had to walk back along the gravel road - me in bare feet. I didn't mind though...I think I would have gladly subjected my feet to a bed of nails laced with hot coals if it meant spending time with him.
In Grade 10 we became an item, our fate sealed after a night of heavy petting under a black light at the school dance. We were teased relentlessly for our very public display, but I was also envied in some camps. Here was proof that goodie-goodies such as myself could actually cross over and be accepted by the cool crowd. I knew what they were thinking: "How did she do it?" Thing was, being with the cool crowd didn't mean anything to me...I just wanted to be with Robbie.
Our romance was complicated by the fact that my mom had forbidden me to date until I was 16. Neither tears nor begging would change her mind. So I did what many other 15 year olds would have done in that situation - I snuck around behind her back!
Finally, my 16th birthday was approaching, and I was ecstatic. At last I could see Robbie without deception. On the big day, I lured him out of one of his classes and we found an empty meeting room. I was feeling at the top of my game. I had never been so happy. And I suddenly needed to tell him how I felt about him. "I love you Robbie," I said. The words came out of my mouth with shyness and wonder, never having said such a thing to anyone. I felt him stiffen in my arms. Oh-oh, what was this? There was a period of silence - probably only a second or two but it felt like forever. Then he said, "Um, that's pretty heavy. I don’t know what to say." I quickly piped up, "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know." Shortly afterwards, he mumbled some excuse about having to get to class, and he left.
"OK," I thought, feeling more than a little deflated. "I guess he just needs some time to digest this news." Wrong. That day after school, he broke up with me. Seems he was interested in Kim - a younger woman of 14. So there I was, on my 16th birthday, in more pain than I had ever been in my life.
Eventually I healed, although it did take some months and it did for the longest time make me more cautious about wearing my heart on my sleeve. Now, to see that love meter charm makes me smile, and reminds me to be a bit more gentle and understanding with my own kids. Truth be known, I wouldn't wish the teenage years on my worst enemy. Ah well, anybody up for a motorcycle ride?
5:39:08 PM 
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