October 2015: “OhmygodthankyousomuchIloveyou!” The words fell out of my mouth in one big rush, stumbling over each other. As my eyelids grew heavier, four words slapped me awake like a hot espresso forced down my throat. “I love you too.” He said this calmly and matter of factly. And as the words left his mouth, a little, happy smirk formed; his minimized, smug face stared at me through the screen. I sat cross-legged on the floor staring at the phone in shock. The world around me dissolved and all that was left was the pounding in my chest. He already knew he was ready to say it, and so was I. But not through a fancy box with a circuit board, no, not the first. “What?” The first, that can’t be the first. I didn’t even say it. At least, I didn’t think I’d said it. I didn’t remember saying it. His words echoing in my ears– “You said ‘I love you’.” “No I didn’t” I replied with honesty and certainty. I did not yet realize, or would actually ever remember if, I had just said it quickly in passing like I always do to friends, or not. Either way, now it was gone, ruined. You only get one first, and it was gone. It will go down in my history books. That early one am conversation on a school night with an unfinished paper due the next day, an early “I love you” hanging over heads, and a ruined first. But those three little words became one of the first stitches between us. The words still overflowing the tips of our lips and we didn't even want to try to hold it in any longer. One says it and lets it hang in that air before its echo joins it. Now, a year later, first has become unimportant. I came to realize that first is just a number, one of an infinite amount, and each is more.
This is the story of the first time I ever said those three little words to my first boyfriend. This vignette should be read in conjunction with “The Last Time I Said ‘I Love You’.” Written and revised 2017-2019.
Life Is Just A Blur 