TFBC: The High-School Sweetheart

When I was 16, I met *Seth.

He was a year older, tall and dark with the cheekiest smile; it was love-at-first-sight (for me). Emboldened by the challenge, I was determined to make him mine. Ever so subtle pick-up gestures included constantly signing in and out of MSN Messenger to alert his attention, burning him mix CDs and filling in suggestive Myspace surveys in the hope he would read them. Under the guise of chatting to my friends, I would position myself in the Year 12 quadrangle where I knew he would see me, every bit the coy vixen. Absolutely shameless, I’m cringing as I write this… but whatever bitches, it worked.

Seth and I dated for a year, maybe eighteen months. While I had lost my virginity to a truly forgettable individual beforehand, this young love was like, so next level guys. I mean, Seth was my senior ball date, and my first serious anything. Steamy make-outs galore. We first had sex on the Busselton Highway bypass, my long legs hanging out of his Holden Nova’s back window. Romance, I know. I was drunk on Real McCoy bourbon that I’d been drinking out of a McDonald’s cup at the Petticoat Lane markets. Afterwards, I went home and ate an entire box of cheddar Shapes, simultaneously shell-shocked and delighted. To this day I can’t see a box of them without smiling to myself.

Thinking back, Seth and I went through so many self-inflicted highs and lows together. When it was good it was all strawberry Zappo candy and Bloc Party concerts. When it was bad, it was essentially an early Taylor Swift song – full of slamming car doors and melodramatic makeups. We didn’t last long after moving to Perth. He got into weed too heavily, and my wandering eye’s pupil was on MDMA. We were selfish, and let’s face it, immature.

In many ways though, it was the perfect first relationship. And just sayin’, I still wonder if it really was that big, or was I just inexperienced… forever intrigued. Ultimately, Seth was great, and we’re actually friends these days. But unlike Seth and Summer from The O.C.  we weren’t meant to get married after I went through a hippy phase at Brown University.

I applaud people that stay with their first love.
But I’m more of a tasting plate gal than a main meal woman.
And small town Busselton is not known for its tapas.

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