Vaughnda.....

Umbrella ~ Rihanna

No tale is complete without a first love, and this one is mine...

Circa 2001, at the age of 25, I was working as a Behavioral Specialist at a non-profit. The job didn't pay much, but I managed to live independently in a simple one bedroom apartment. At that time, almost everything I owned was handed down to me. I shared my space with Yager, my four legged companion who acted more like an independent roommate than a cuddly pet. All in all, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment with where I was in life.

I didn't venture out much, as I was committed to my diet and staying active. Having grown up as an overweight kid, maintaining a healthy weight was important to me. To this day, I continue to battle that inner fat kid. Occasionally, I indulge in a binge-eating spree, but I always counteract it with strict discipline, staying on track with my health goals.  I’ve been told by several people that I’m the unhealthiest/healthiest person they know, for the most part that is a true statement.

One Friday, my friend Julie called, convinced I was a hermit in need of a social intervention. She was adamant that Club 21 was the place to be and insisted I go out with her. I panicked and used my dog as an excuse to stay in. Julie, being the sharp cookie she was, saw right through it. You see, Friday nights were my cheat nights, my sacred ritual of driving to Carl’s Jr, grabbing a double western bacon cheeseburger, sharing fries with Yager, and just vegging out. Life was good, predictable, and perfectly suited for my lifestyle at the time.   Needless to say, Julie won, I caved, and Carl’s Jr was no longer on the menu as I was about to fill my belly up with nutrients from all the booze I was about to consume.

Who knew this night would whack me upside the head and kick off something that would cling to me like a sticky note forever…………………

Here I am, hanging out with my two knucklehead buddies at Club 21, the new hotspot for lesbians since Faces became the ultimate dance bar and opened its doors to everyone, nothing like a bunch of swingers trying to take you home.  So now, we staked our claim at Club 21. Our night? A never-ending loop between the smoking alley (the must-visit spot, smoker or not), the bar, and the dance floor. We always ended up perched at the edge of the dance floor, pitchers of beer in hand, because who needs glasses when you're older, wiser, and ready to party like you're 21 again, even though that was just a few years ago!  I mean, I'm out, so might as well make the most of it!

In a flash, the lesbians started to vanish, the walls felt like they were closing in, and the music seemed to be playing from some distant galaxy. Cue the dramatic pupil dilation and armpit sweat! There she was, making her way through the crowd in slow motion, greeting the gals like a superstar.  I looked at my friends, mouth wide open in sheer amazement. Talk about love at first sight! It felt like my entire being just made a dramatic implosion.

No shocker here, my two friends, teetering on the edge of intoxication, huddled around me like we were in a locker room, delivering the pep talk of a lifetime. Their encouragement was pretty rock-solid. I grabbed my wallet, pulled out my business card, and crumpled it up like a secret note, hiding it from prying eyes. With my legs feeling like overcooked noodles, I made my way to her. The closer I got, the more stunning she became, and the more my stomach felt like it was auditioning for a roller coaster.

She towered over me, thanks to her sky-high shoes. Gathering my courage, I looked up and asked, “If I gave you my number, would you call?”

Before I even finished, she was already shaking her head in slow-motion, “noooooooo.” Turns out, she was seeing someone. My body shattered into a million pieces, and I metaphorically grabbed a broom and dustpan to sweep myself up. With a heavy sigh, I shoved the crumpled business card back into my pocket and walked away kicking the invisible cans in front of me.

Fast forward a few weeks later, I'm lounging on my deck when a little gray BMW pulls up. Out steps the stunning blonde with the biggest bluest eyes, shit you not, same girl from the bar, and I immediately ducked down like a guilty kid caught in the act. The last time I saw her, I was practically fleeing the scene with my tail between my legs. Quickly grabbing my dog for a "WALK" I spotted the apartment she entered a few buildings over.  I kept an eye on that gray car like it was a high-stakes poker game. Sure enough, the bombshell and her girlfriend eventually emerged. I'd seen the girlfriend before, let's just say she wasn't exactly a crowd favorite. But I knew I had to play nice and befriend her if I wanted to get to know the blonde.

It didn't take long for me to take action. I walked up to the apartment and knocked on the door, greeting them with a casual neighborly, "Oh, I didn't know you guys lived here!" The mission was a success, her name was Lisa. Soon, she started coming over to my place occasionally, then more frequently. Before long, we were moving her belongings in, organizing my closet with her clothes, and making space in my one-bedroom apartment for the two of us, plus Yager.

Mine and Lisa’s relationship spanned several years, moved a few times, added another dog, she was my first "real" relationship. Lisa was everything I wasn't, patient, fancy, trendy, witty, understanding, exceptionally smart, and logical. When she entered a room, it was like someone hit the pause button on everyone else. And when she spoke, you'd think she was announcing the secrets of the universe. She had this magical ability to connect with people on every level, from discussing the latest world events to chatting about local gossip. She carried herself with such grace and oozed confidence, making everyone feel important and accepted for who they were. I was completely in awe of her and head over heels in love.

Our dynamic was fluid and organic. We were the life of the parties, the heartbeat of our friend group. I'm pretty sure we were like Brad and Angelina in Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Okay, maybe I'm giving us too much credit, but we were definitely a force! We knew how to dive into fun like pros, but also knew when to hit pause and focus on home life. Lisa was my communication guru, teaching me to open up instead of pulling my classic silent act, thinking silence was the ultimate problem-solver. We never yelled or disrespected each other, though sometimes you could practically see the steam coming out of our ears, more so hers. We always kept our personal matters private and maintained composure through life's challenges.

She was my personal safety net, always there to catch me. She patiently handled my vulnerability like an expert and took the time to truly understand me. She had an incredible way of encouraging me to be my best self without leading me astray. Even though I wasn't as financially secure as she was, she always said she’d be happy even if we lived in a cardboard box, as long as we were together. She had a talent for saying exactly the right thing when insecurities crashed the party, calming those moments like a boss. We were inseparable! Lisa’s genuine approach to life was so infectious, you couldn't help but be influenced by it! She was the reason we had a loving, safe and secure home. It was genuinely and beautifully real.

However, all good things must come to an end. While the conclusion wasn't the most dramatic of all my relationships over the years, it did have its memorable moments. I'll eventually share the fun, interesting and less enjoyable stories, but our ending was relatively calm.  I vividly recall the day I moved out. Her father visited, and as we sat on the back porch, he asked if I needed any help and mentioned that he wished people were like pigeons, who stay with one mate for life. His comment wasn't surprising, considering his passion for pigeon racing.

In terms of her style and grace, she handled our separation with remarkable dignity. She showed immense compassion and love instead of disrespect and hate, making the situation easier rather than more difficult. Instead of distancing herself from our shared friends, she wrote a heartfelt letter to the girls in our group. She expressed her sadness over our separation but emphasized that it should not affect the friendships we had all built together. Her approaches were always commendable and honorable in everything she did.

This relationship was a tough one to swallow. In that space and time, she was the only person I could truly be myself around, and her dedication, warmth, compassion, and sincerity were never lost on me. After this break, I didn't want to get close to anyone else. The pain and guilt stuck around like an unwelcome guest at a party for two reasons: I started to see love as synonymous with pain, and I wasn't eager to sign up for another round of vulnerability and emotional boot camp, over the years, this had proven itself time and time again.

Lisa taught me a lot about myself during our relationship, who knew I could compromise without actually compromising myself!  She gave me a masterclass in support and encouragement, not to mention a crash course in love and affection. Lisa's challenges were like life's pop quizzes, each teaching me something new. She also gave me a PhD in resilience and tolerance and showed me the ropes of healthy conflict resolution. I've done my best to carry these "Lisa Lessons" out into the world, aiming to graduate with honors! Though, if anyone's curious, I'm currently swaying between a B-minus and a C-minus. Although, I suspect some might have given me an F, which could be interpreted in various ways. (silently shrugging)

Lisa has since moved on, married with children, and is living an incredibly loving life. When I talk to her, I find comfort in our conversations, whose insights I still treasure like hidden gems. It's amusing how the past sneaks in to guide us through life's minefields, like an unexpected detour. She's been my voice of reason during some of my chaotic moments, a beacon in the storm. Over the years, she's helped me with some challenges, decorating ideas, and I couldn't be more thankful, or more surprised that she hasn't sent me an invoice!

They say you never forget your first love, and that holds true. A first is always a first. We experienced so many "firsts" together; it was like a buffet of unforgettable moments. As the years go by, I find myself reflecting on those memories, remembering who that person was in that particular relationship, and recognizing how I have evolved over time. Although it was the toughest relationship to say goodbye to, it was not in vain. I can now look back and appreciate the beginning, the middle, and the end.