The Men I've Loved

Chapter One: David

It was my junior year in high school, and David and I were as tight as a fat man caving. We did everything for each other: I got him a summer job, he'd pick me up and take me out to go putt-putting or out for a cup of coffee at Dunkin' Donuts (he liked it really light and really sweet).

Everybody else in school called him Dave, and so I guess that's why I started calling him David. That's what his family called him, and I was practically an honorary member of the quirky little clan of five. I hated being in my house, and David hated being in his, so we'd set out, just driving along the Connecticut shoreline, bopping around with some CD playing. David and I shared a favorite song, "Hotel California." We liked it independently of each other, but the tune had became a sort of anthem for our friendship.

David's family had money. My family was a comfortable, upper-middle class kind of family, but we weren't as big about showing off as David's family was. His mother was dripping in diamonds. She had big huge chunks of ice sparkling as she drove around in her big, black Mercedes Benz. Mrs. T. was a far cry from my mother in her red Volvo sedan, wearing the sweatshirt du jour.

Mrs. T. liked getting her nails done and had weekly appointments to take care of those carefully sculpted talons. She didn't have to work, so she filled her time with driving around the state getting her kids the hottest Beanie Babies (remember how obsessed people were about those?) and eating out (Mrs. T. refused to cook).

David couldn't stand being around his family. His father had high expectations for his oldest son, expectations David could never meet, no matter how hard he tried. So he stopped trying completely.

I loved David because of our bond. I think I fell in love with him because we were both dependent on each other, using the other as an outlet for confession, for confiding, for trust. I was so attracted to him, and that attraction made me bend over backwards for David, even going as far as driving the getaway car when he and another guy decided to steal street signs all around town.

I don't think we took any stop signs.

David was my first love. I fell in love with that feeling of having a person I was totally devoted to. Whereever one was, the other was never too far behind.

David and I never kissed. I think we came pretty close a few times, leaning against the rocks along the shore during the Connecticut summer or driving around 'til dawn, just killing time and burning gas.

I think it was that whole stopping trying thing that made me realize David was not the one for me. He didn't have any drive to excel, and that was a hard pill for me to swallow considering I was a spitfire with goals and accomplishments aplenty to tackle.

Later on, the love died, and I ended up staying in better touch with Mrs. T. than I did David. He dropped out of college one semester and thought about coming to Kentucky with me to enroll in Lexington's community college. He decided against it, instead signing up for the Air Force, later dropping out of that (without permission) and fighting the military for an honorable discharge.

I haven't talked to David in probably three years or so. Last I heard, he was married and had a child on the way. I hope he's happy.

Coming up, Chapter Two: Thomas.