Remembrance of Romances Past

Published October 16, 2007

By Lea McLellan

I just broke up with my boyfriend of a year and a half. He was my best friend and my first love. In addition to crying for two days, eating more peppermint patties than anyone should, and calling my Mom more often than usual, I’ve found a way of coping that’s been strangely helpful. I realized that while my boyfriend and I were together, I convinced myself that he was the only person I had ever dated or had true feelings for. But that isn’t true. While I’m unable to laugh about my most recent relationship, there were some seriously bizarre ones that came before him, and I can definitely laugh about those.

I’ve spent a lot of time pretending my first relationship never happened. It’s pretty easy to deny its existence because I never really told anyone about it. Even when we were together, I knew that there was something inherently embarrassing about the fact I was dating Spencer Ives.

In general, I think lanky is kind of sexy, but Spencer was really pushing it. He was six and a half feet tall, probably weighed less than I, and had long, stringy blonde hair. Basically, he was the male version of Betty Spaghetti. To make matters weirder, he was three years older than I, in his first year of technical college, obsessed with Volkswagens and Freddie Mercury, and played the French horn. Not surprisingly, I was his first girlfriend. I still don’t know what I was thinking.

On our first date, we sat in the back of his VW bus (it had curtains he sewed himself), ate peanut butter and banana sandwiches, and listened to The Beatles. In my heart I knew that he was in no way attractive, smelled like a mix of gasoline and b.o., and was the most socially awkward kid I’d ever met. Still, I was going through my “geeks are hot” stage and I thought he was the coolest.

Then one night we watched Harold and Maude together. It was my favorite movie, and I’ll admit that I was interested in testing out his reaction. To my disgust, he sang along with Cat Stevens the whole time. As a result, I hated his guts. It took me a whole year before I could watch Harold and Maude without wanting to puke. I broke up with him soon after the incident… over the Internet.

Duration: four shameful months.

Next up was Scott Lender. Technically he was never my boyfriend. He was really just a kid who drove me around for
a summer, and we made out. Scott had a really low IQ. He played a lot of video games, constantly talked about baseball, and quoted Family Guy way too much. His room was decorated with Star Wars paraphernalia, legos, and posters of
naked women. Oh, and he collected whips. Not in a weird sex fetish kind of way… in an Indiana Jones kind of way. I don’t know which is worse.

He had graduated high school, wasn’t in college, and his family owned an oil company. He pumped gas. We had absolutely nothing in common. If he had been my age and had gone to my high school, I probably would have despised him. But it was summer, he was cute, my standards were lowered, and for some reason I really liked him.

Once fall came around, we were unable to avoid the unspoken question of whether what we had was just a summer fling, or something more. Apparently it was just a summer fling because he broke it off with me and I was crushed. Not because I thought we were soul mates, but because it really just didn’t make sense. I was cute, fun, and smart. He was borderline retarded. I found out later that his reasoning for breaking up with me was, “I can’t be in a relationship with Lea because if a girl came up to me off the street and wanted to suck my d**k, I wouldn’t be able to say no.” That’s a direct quote. Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. What a douche bag!

Finally there was John. Not much to say about him. He was eighteen, I was sixteen and I actually drove his no-license ass around for a whole month. The first time we kissed, it was like he was trying to wetvac my face. It’s not something I like to think about. While I was trying to decide whether or not it was worth it to wait and see if he improved, he shaved his beard, I realized he had an extreme butt chin, and that was the end of that.

I’m not proud of these relationships (who would be??). Honestly, I have trouble believing that they ever happened. But at least I can laugh at my younger self and realize that I’ve grown up a little in the last few years. I doubt I’ll ever be able to laugh at my most recent relationship because he was the real deal. Still, it helps to think that maybe someday I can look back on it and say that I’ve grown up a little.

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