The First (Lucky: Part 1)

I met Lucky when I was in middle school. While I enjoyed the attention, it also made me uncomfortable. I was still very much a tomboy and would rather show the guys up on the basketball court or race them on my bike. I knew he liked me, but I ignored that. I wasn’t interested in being with him like that.

I should probably add that I developed quite early. I was a C-cup before leaving elementary school. I “entered womanhood” on my 11th birthday.

Towards the end of my 8th grade year I got into some trouble. I showed up at his house in the middle of the night (as a friend) and he gave me the $20 he had and wished me luck. I ended up back at home a few days after that.

Later that month, I rode to his graduation with his grandparents and family. Our friendship started to deepen over the course of the next few months. By that point I was 14 and he was 18.

He was just under four years older than me, and persistent. We started “talking” when I was in high school. We wrote notes to each other and left them in my mailbox almost every night. He seemed so much more mature than the boys I went to school with.

When I was 15 I gave in and said, “Yes.” We were an official couple. He went to my sophomore homecoming dance with me, and eventually my junior prom. We were together throughout most of my high school years, though it was on and off at some points.

I had to sneak around to be in this relationship, as my father didn’t really approve of me dating, especially someone outside of my race. I maintained an incredibly busy schedule between school, sports, and work, so it wasn’t really unreasonable for me to be gone all the time.

Plus, by that time, my parents had so much going on I barely even saw my father. He was at work or in his garage during the rare moments I was at home (outside of sleep). As long as I maintained my grades and my parents had an idea of where I was they were satisfied.

A few months after we officially started dating, other things escalated. He wasn’t my first kiss, but he was my first real “boyfriend” and eventually my “first”. (My mom recently gave me an old photo album she found…and my sentimental self saved the wrapper from our first time.)

During those times, I felt like he would be my “forever.” Even with the drama and some of those “off” moments, I just knew he was my person. But that was my inexperienced teenage brain (and hormones) and a whole lot of wishful thinking.

In reality, he was my escape from my family life. He made me feel wanted, loved, and supported. He went to more of my basketball games than my whole family combined. (It wasn’t hard.)

I had the whole fairytale in my head that we’d be married and raise a family and just live happily ever after. He gave me a promise ring during my junior year of high school. That was further proof to me that we were destined to be together.

Looking back now, I see all the red flags that I was far too insecure to be trying to date anyone, let alone plan out my entire life with them. I also see all the flags of how I established a relationship with very few boundaries, and even those were more like lines in the sand that kept getting pushed back.