The Love of My Life is Dead and Gone but it was Definitely No Ordinary Love
Love and romance can create powerful feelings and put you in some crazy situations.
As a new story writer to the Medium platform, I recently shared a story about recovering from the loss of a romantic love. How I Learned to Move On After Losing the Same Love Twice is my story about the challenge of moving on, following a divorce and later on, even the death of a man I continue to love.
While the above mentioned story talks more about the loss of that love, this story focuses on the actual birth of that love and how the two of us first came together. I wanted readers to get a brief glimpse of who we were and how I really loved this man.
Feelings When We Met
I met Rene the first week that my sisters and I moved into a three-bedroom duplex together. He was gorgeous with his caramel brown skin, deep-ass dimples, and a sly looking grin. He had a fine grade of hair that was combed into a wannabe afro and drooped well below his shoulders. He also had the softest big brown eyes that I ever melted into.
That summer day, him and one of his buddies saw me sitting on the porch in a pair of cutoff shorts. They naturally stopped to check out the newest female in the neighborhood. I let them come into the yard and sit on the steps. His friend pulled out a ceremonial joint to welcome me to the block. He lit it and passed it after taking a few puffs.
Since I lived with my older sister and could do what I pleased, I smoked pot whenever I wanted, but I still declined the joint when they passed it to me. For some strange reason, as handsome and witty as I felt he was at that time; Rene’s charm had no effect on me that first day.
After a little bit of flirting and light banter with them both, I said goodbye and went in the house. It wasn’t until he showed up at my door one evening, about a week later, that the fireworks between us really started. Of all things, he asked to borrow “a pair of toenail clippers.” I’ll never forget how I though to myself at the time, “Who in the hell borrows toenail clippers from someone they just met?” I’m pretty sure I said as much to him when he first made the strange request.
Strange or not, apparently it wasn’t too bad of a pick-up line because it obviously worked. I let him in and we talked for hours that night. That was really when my infatuation with him first started to develop. He told me a little about his rough childhood and a little about his current life and activities. In spite of my suspicion that he wasn’t as strait laced as I was, I felt we still had a lot in common.
From the first time I let him lay a finger on my 18-year-old body, I knew I would love Rene forever, and I was right. I must confess, we made out not long after the toenail incident, but hey, what can I say? Don’t judge me.
That night was magical for me. I swear, our eyes locked for nearly ten minutes, as we both grinned in anticipation of what was about to happen. That’s what I remember most about our first time together; drowning in those big brown eyes, and my goodness, what beautiful eyes they were!
But our short-lived romance of one month was quickly followed by an 18-month recess. The object of my infatuation was sent to jail for getting caught committing a theft. I stayed by his side (in spirit of course) and we wrote each other practically every day. The entire time he was locked away, I made multiple weekly visits to the local county jail to see him.
My infatuation grew and I managed to truly fall in love with this man, though we hadn’t really known each other long. He poured his soul out in the letters we exchanged, and he talked about marriage all the time. Honestly, I didn’t really believe his “jail house talk” about us getting married when he got out. I knew I wanted to be with him, but I could care less about marriage at the time. It just wasn’t on my radar, in spite of the things he wrote about our future together.
While he was away, I found a clerical job and rented us a small apartment, in preparation for his release from jail. He got out and moved in, and even manged to secure a long term temp assignment just a week after being released. I was still just as smitten and he kept on professing his undying love. But I wasn’t absolutely certain he was sincere until the day we went to go see a movie.
Questioning the Relationship
It was about a month after his release, and we had smoked some pot before going downtown to the show. We were in a hurry since the joint threw us off schedule, so we didn’t bother to grab anything to eat before going into the theater. I was starving, and not just from the pot, so I settled for some popcorn until we could get something later. Bad idea! It was stale, but I ate it anyway.
The movie we went to see was called “Alive” and it was about airplane survivors who had to resort to cannibalism. Before the first fifteen minutes of the movie had passed, I was ready to leave. Between the pot, the stale popcorn and the whole cannibalism thing, I was feeling kind of sick to my stomach. We left and I still felt a little light-headed once we were outside.
As soon as we crossed the street to go to the bus stop, our bus was already approaching. Rene grabbed my hand and we hurried to the stop and fought to get on with the rest of the crowd. We had to stand up after making our way to the middle of the bus, and we could barely find room to stand together. I remember feeling warm inside the packed vehicle and trying to make my way closer to Rene. I wanted to tell him that I was starting to feel dizzy, and that I thought that I might faint. But I didn’t have a chance, because just like that, I passed out.
Love Sticks Around
I remember regaining consciousness at least once and seeing that we were still on the bus, but I wasn’t standing up. Rene was actually carrying me in his arms. I passed out again, or so I thought. Everything went blank, so I had no clue what really happened on the bus. The next time I came to, I was outside, sitting on a bus bench, and Rene was kneeling down in front of me. The front of his shirt was covered with vomit from where I had thrown up all over him. He even had a little residue on his face.
His big brown eyes were the first thing I saw when I opened my own eyes and he was grinning from ear to ear. He smiled at me, flashing pearly white teeth and showing off his dimples. He was clearly happy to have me back with him, but at the moment, I couldn’t understand why. There he was, covered in all my barf, after I made a spectacle of him on a public bus. All I could do was cry like a baby while he tried to console me, and we both tried to clean each other up.
No Ordinary Love
Rene never made me feel bad about what happened that day, in fact that night he made light of the whole thing. We we went over everything that had happened, trying to figure out why I suddenly got so sick. That was when he joked and told me what happened on the bus.
“Baby, it wasn’t nowhere to sit when we first got on the bus, but it sure was plenty of seats when you started throwing up! Man, everybody was giving me a seat then!”
Every time I think back to that day at the bus stop, I see Rene’s face staring at me when I first woke up. That was the day that I knew for sure he loved me. He had carried me like a baby when I was on that bus, and not abandoned me when I threw up all over the place. For me, that was all the proof I needed. This was a man that would truly give me the kind of love that I needed in my life. So I married him six months later.
ENJOY OUR STORY:
How I Learned to Move On After Losing the Same Love Twice
Love and grief go hand-in-hand when divorce and death are part of the equation.
Our lives weren’t perfect and we went through a lot, but the deep love we had for each other never changed. If not for the drug habit that led to his death, we might have stayed together forever. Instead, we stayed married for ten years and had a wonderful son, all because it was no ordinary love.