These past two months have been a whirlwind of sinking, scrambling, and sidelining with little swimming. I find myself newly transplanted in my hometown, back to the bittersweet midwest. Not only does it feel great to be back in a real city, but my first thoughts upon solidifying this decision were of the Ambassador (read a bit of background on our relationship here). I would have picked a much less silly name for this perma-crush had I known he would now be at the forefront of my thoughts.
I feel like I’m living in a romantic comedy. My dating life the past ten years has certainly fulfilled the comedy aspect and my hopeless romantic desires bundle it into a neat little package for which I would cast Charlotte Gainsbourg and… ooh! Jude Law. Yum. The Ambassador and I met and began dating when we were 17. Just about to graduate high school, I knew the endeavor was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help myself. I fell hard. We had a great summer together before we both left for different colleges. We tried to break up at the end of the summer, but ended up back together with an even deeper commitment to make the long-distance work. The whole relationship lasted about a year before we broke it off officially; it was so difficult to stay in touch.
My thoughts never swayed from him. I swear I never fell out of love with him, or at least the 18-year-old version of him. I asked him out the first night we spent together when I arrived back in the midwest this past week. In celebration of our (new) first date, which was this past Monday, I want to post this adorable story of our first first date over ten years ago. I’ll do only minor editing of 17-year-old Captain Crème’s journal entry…
I’m honestly not sure how all of this can be happening.
I told my mom I’d be at A’s Thursday night and went camping with J, the Ambassador, and B instead… The Ambassador had been sitting close to me all night and kept asking if I was having an okay time. I was content just being there with the boys.
We moved to the tent eventually and the Ambassador and I laid next to each other, sharing my pillow. He was so close to me, I wanted to reach out and play with his hair. I decided I didn’t want to make any moves, however. I didn’t know if the Ambassador was just drunk or if he actually liked me. I decided to lay low.
J and R came and left. At about 4am, the Ambassador and I decided to go on a walk because it was such an amazing night. I knew by now that the Ambassador was sober. He had stopped drinking earlier than everyone else; I think he wanted to be sober with me.
The night was fantastic. There was a beautiful fog and the stars peeked out on occasion. We walked around and heard tons of scary noises… We also found a lot of sights that looked like paintings. There was one spot that was very swamp-like. In it was a tree that (with the reflection in the lake) made a complete circle. Our circle. And there were cute little bridges and a beautiful clear reflection of trees in the water. We sat there for awhile and waited for the sun to rise.
I stood close to him and rested my head on his shoulder. I could feel his hand trailing lightly on my back. His hand moved its way to my face and he turned mine towards his. We paused, breathing. Then he kissed me. We kissed and it was beautiful.
Surreal. The Ambassador didn’t look like his usual self. Come to think of it, nothing looked or seemed real about that night. It all seemed like an amazing dream; very hazy and blurry. The rising of the sun brought clarity in vision, but failed to clarify my comprehension. We walked closer to the tent, but stopped to look out at the lake. We saw birds fly out of nowhere; out of the water. Oh so beautiful. All so perfect.
He kissed me again.
We walked back to the tent and laid down, his arm around me. I asked him if this was real. It all seemed too amazing. He replied, “I sure hope it is.”
Over the moon – Capt. Crème