no, not me. her. Lisa. the one that hates bugs (no, really) and loves dairy even though her body doesn't. she got married.

she was my first. my first love. my first, well, y'know. and the first person i met in person off of the internet back in the days when it wasn't totally kosher to do so. (we use to be really shy about that and would make up elaborate stories about where we'd met) so it's strange to think she's wearing a gold ring on her finger and telling people stuff like, "well, my husband doesn't like prunes."

as i wrote to her, "gosh, maybe it's the sleep deprivation kicking in (i've only had six hours of sleep in two days because of work) but i'm actually a bit choked up to see the first person i ever loved, the person i lost my virginity to, get married. brings back floods of memories. like the first time i kissed you standing in your parents' living room, leaning up against the couch, you smelling of Sunflowers. wonderful memories."

and it wasn't just the sleep deprivation.

i don't want to say it's the passing of an era because that passed a long time ago. but something is making me look back not with wistful eyes but with a sort of mindful perspective. i'm reminded of driving through New Hampshire in her car and walking through downtown Boston with her. i remember how intensely i felt for her and how i once made her so mad she threw a huge cup of water on me. (i deserved it) i remember how i didn't know what to do to make us happy and how hard it was to be apart from her.

they're not simple feelings. they're robust and full of crevasses and nooks. they leave me warm and oddly comforted, despite some of the sentiments they portray. and even though i feel a million miles from those memories, i can still smell her perfume as i kissed her for the first time, leaning up against her parents' couch.

many wishes for happy a future for you and your husband, Lisa.