talk about your first love and first kiss

ooooh, well here we go. A great question from one of my readers, loving this suggestion thank you and if anyone else wants to know anything or give me an excuse to scribble, just drop me a line 🙂

My first love is easy, the spanish boy, a neighbour, now like family and thankfully i grew out of spanish men as he would not have been able to handle me

first kiss – as in a peck? probably a boy in our street when I was a child, oddly, he was kissing one of my best friends around then too….what a tart! but first let’s say “proper” kiss, well that was another Spanish boy. I was 14 and a late starter to that kind of thing (well, the boys I was friends with in the UK never seemed to find me attractive – not that I’m blaming them but it probably doesn’t help that I was friends with many of them, so more like a sister than a fanciable person – at least, thats what Im telling myself now haha).

Anyway, first kiss, was a Spanish boy who with hindsight, I shouldn’t have trusted or imagined any kind of future with but he and his closest friend (I will call them R and V) really stood up for me when I started at the school and experienced my first dose of Racism – from someone else English towards me, not as i’d imagined, a Spanish person towards me).

I was at school in Competa with a group of friends on a break and an English lad tipped coke all over me (erroneously thinking I had put something in it as a joke). I had to sit, sticky, hot and not at all happy in classes I didn’t understand for the entire afternoon and this was yet another occasion I went home, hating life, hating everything, wishing I was still in the UK, tried to avoid my mum as I couldn’t tell her these thoughts and then cried myself to sleep. I’d been bullied a lot in England so this just felt like another person who didn’t like me and sadly the sadness and fear that I had felt for years before would obviously just continue. Cut to the next day at school where i’d already decided to avoid the English kid like the plague and decided to go out at the break but to avoid everyone. I was used to being alone in England so maybe i’d cope the same way in Spain. Anyway, I walked out to a HUGE group of people stood around 2 people fighting in the “playground” – it was more like a waste ground due to the building that was still going on but you get the idea – and managed to find one of the Spanish girls I knew who tried her best to communicate that the kid getting a kicking was this English boy and the one doing the kicking was V, he finished off the fight with the words (I will honestly never forget these) “you never touch her again, she’s one of US” and it made me cry again. I honestly didn’t think it would have any affect or that but was astounded to leave school , to discover both R and V outside, ready to walk me home and also to make sure this English kid knew, if they weren’t enough of a threat, then their big brothers would be.

I’ve never felt so much part of a community as I did at that point. I had done my best to get involved with the Spanish – even just by being sat trying to talk with the use of a dictionary which is HARD, and they never seemed to expect anything of me or from me, they were just happy to be my friends. Before I’d even been in the village for 3 months, I was invited to join their celebrations, their lives and to be a part of things with them – Feria’s, parties and even just family occasions. I think that this is one of the reasons I’ve always tried to reach out to new people, to make them feel comfortable and to feel like they are good enough. My old English school friends were great (well, the majority) but I know that What you have/can offer always played a role in friendships, whereas the Spanish never seemed to expect anything.

Anyway, following the help that both V and R gave me, it seemed quite logical to assume that R really cared. Unfortunately, turns out he didn’t but at least he made me feel welcomed and safe, which is a lot more than a lot of people have done.

I think we stayed together for about 6 months but I was still quite young and hadn’t gone all the way yet and unfortunately, when I said to him I wasn’t ready, he decided to make himself seem “manlier” by telling people I was a lesbian……funnily enough, given how he grew up, think i’d have rather been a lesbian or for that matter, an hermit!!

The first love is always a special one isn’t it? I think that if I had stayed in Spain and had been happy with the life women have there then we would have been a good couple, but he had already met the future wife and mother of his children (now his ex) and I was just a fun distraction, however, it formed me into the person I am. This boy in question was a neighbour of mine, one of the family who adopted me as one of their own and if his mother had had her way, I’d probably be married off to one of them by now!

Due to my stance on not wanting children, I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t have been considered a good Spanish wife, in fact, there’s a few reasons why I probably wouldn’t: I wouldn’t accept my man cheating with impunity (not that all Spanish men do this, but it was certainly not considered as bad a thing as it would in this country for example), I wouldn’t want someone going out to work and just expecting me to do the womans work and raise kids but I am happy to say that last time I was in Competa and bumped into the man in question, we were able to chat about life (he showed me pics of his 2 beautiful boys) and there was no ill feelings or hurt and there was no longer an ache for him. I think after about 15 years i’d finally got over him 😀 pretty good going yeah?

So there you have it, my first love and first kiss. Wanna share yours? or some sweet story from your life as love found you? I’m not specifically mushy but I do love hearing about other people’s love stories, good or bad, they always make me very emotional!

Feel free to tell me your stories and make me jealous – they’ve got to be better than mine.

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