Love stories , love quotes, love songs and a collection of peoples first love story.
I met him at a keg party in college. It was my sophomore
year and, taking my parents' advice, I'd joined a sorority.
When he walked around the corner, my eyes were drawn to him. He gave his wheat colored, silky hair a toss. When his eyes were revealed, they were staring directly into mine. My heart fluttered, and I honestly worried that this beautiful creature could hear the rapid pumping of my heart -- or worse yet, see it through the white vest I wore.
It was those eyes that drew me in ... deep brown, slightly narrowed, with hooded eyelids and knowing brows. Yellowish tan flesh and perfectly thick hair; all were gifts from his Native American bloodline. But as my eyes traveled the length of this elegant man, they were halted at the site of the slightly dirty plaster that encased his arm.
I've always been an introvert, and it was with great difficulty and courage that I managed to ask him, "What happened to your arm?"
His face lit in animation when he answered my question. He had been late to class, his van was in the shop and his motorcycle wouldn't start, so he was forced to ride his skateboard to class. He would have made it on time if he hadn't hit a piece of gravel on the way, causing him to nearly be hit by a car.
I was instantly sympathetic and excited at the same time.
Ed was the most passionate person I have ever met. The son of a preacher and an honor student in high school, he was also an accomplished swimmer, which gave him gloriously strong shoulders and a slim waist.
Like many preacher's sons, Ed wanted to experience life to the fullest in ways the church did not advocate. The thought of making love to an innocent little sorority girl thrilled him. He never tired of pleasuring me and could do so for hours.
With Ed, I was able to break out of the shell that I had been hiding in for as long as I can remember. I threw caution to the wind, skipped class frequently to make love continuously and exhaustively wherever we found ourselves.
Ed was a dreamer and was always looking for a new high. When I was no longer a challenge, he became obsessed with smoking pot and dropping acid, all the while drinking his soul into a deep depression.
He soon became bored with me. One night, among his pot buddies, we broke up. I was the one who suggested it, but somehow, I knew it was his idea.
I was devastated. I returned to my apartment and sobbed until dawn. Eyes swollen practically shut, at around 7:00 AM I went running. I had gained 15 pounds from the Ed roller coaster, and I felt the extra weight move around as I ran. I noticed every leaf on every tree and heard the crisp sounds of leaves underneath my Nikes.
I made the decision to transfer to a large University.
Two years later, alone and observing life in a new place, researching philosophy and religion in the University library, I looked up in my path and thought that my heart would burst.
It was Ed, strolling toward me with a beautiful, petite, sorority girl. My heart ached as he went by, and I said, "Hello, Ed."
It was if I was one of the books on the shelf. He didn't say a word.
A year later, at another keg party, I walked into the room and stood in the corner, observing. Across the room was a tall, confident man with a carefree smile. My roommate, Mike, dared me to talk to him.
I crossed the room, held out my hand and introduced myself to my husband.
Six months later, I was at another college party with my boyfriend. Ed walked in with a breathtaking but terribly overweight girl. She had the saddest eyes I had ever seen.
It took me several moments to realize that she was the petite sorority girl from the library.
I never saw Ed again.