I was 14 years old and his name was Ethan. I know now that although he would be my first Ethan, he would be far from my last. Ethan and I met at the Jewish summer camp we both attended. I remember that first night we were at a boy-girl mixer, a big deal because we were all finally old enough to be trusted around members of the opposite sex! You could smell the hormones in the air...
He was a sweet enough boy with a drawling voice and bright blue eyes. On the white of one of his eyes was a dark red spot, an old popped blood vessel that never faded. That really creeped me out the first time I met him. But, as a young girl who had fantasized about falling in love and living happily ever after, he was perfect.
Ethan asked me to dance, if I recall correctly, which I was more than happy to agree to. Looking back on it now, his dancing was embarrassing! He awkwardly swayed back and forth except for certain points he would drop down to the floor and do the worm! It was the worse rendition of the Harlem Shake I had ever seen. My friends still make fun of it to this day.
That night marked the beginning of our six day affair. I received my first french kiss ever the next night. It was Shabbat, and after a delicious Friday night dinner of chicken, broccoli and some sort of rice, we ran up to the rec hall to participate in some good ol' fashion Israeli dancing. After learning from the previous evening, I asked Ethan if he wanted to sit on the side with me instead of dancing, feigning exhaustion. We sat and chatted for a few minutes and it was then I swapped spit for the first time.
I can remember to this day the feeling and the taste of running my tongue over his braces. I was made aware of the little pieces of broccoli from dinner nestled in the back corners of his mouth and the ferocity that he reciprocated. In a word, it was HORRIBLE! I was glad when a camp counselor came up to us and broke the kiss up, saying, "That's not very appropriate" in a nasally voice. That was the first, and last time I kissed Ethan.
As mentioned before, our relationship lasted a few more days. I still enjoyed myself playing tennis, going swimming and hanging out with my first ever boyfriend. Although I had long since surpassed my phase of puberty, Ethan was just beginning his. More than once was I awkwardly positioned in front of him to hide the boner he could not surpress. My friends always made sure to point out when these occurrences happened and giggle about it. 14 year old girls are fucking bitches.
I broke up with him walking back from an event in the rec hall. I don't remember what I said or what he said but after that we parted ways and barely saw each other for the next three weeks of camp. About two years later I happened to be in his area and we tried to get together to see a movie (The House Bunny if I remember correctly). I told my father to drive me to the movie theater, got there only to realize Ethan and I had accidentally gone to different theaters. We didn't meet up that day.
A few months ago I heard from Ethan again. He was visiting a friend at the university I attended and wanted to know if I could meet up for coffee or something. I agreed, noticing on his Facebook that he had a girlfriend; I thought he was just trying to reminisce. The day before he was supposed to come we were talking via Facebook chat and he confided in me that his girlfriend and him just broke up. I connected the dots and just happened to get so drunk I slept through our coffee plans the next day.
I haven't heard from Ethan since and I don't really want to. Ethan was the first guy in my life but he and I will remain where we belong; in the past.
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