He may not have been the first, but it was certainly one of the most memorable. I started dating “JD” five days before turning 17. I’d dated one of his friends and when he broke it off, he tried to hand me off to JD. Well, it worked.
We dated for just over a year and I broke it off with him after having bought him a gold chain for our one year anniversary. I found out on my 18th birthday that he had cheated on me three, maybe four, times a few months earlier while I’d been in France for two weeks. I cried and went to the office to sign myself out for the rest of the day from school. I’d been signing myself out for almost a year now, but the staff never noticed. But on this day, I walked in and the principal asked me how I was doing. I said I didn’t feel well and that I wanted to go home. “You look fine to me,” he replied, my eyes all red and puffy. The secretary behind the desk asked: “Are you 18?, to which I replied, “As a matter of fact, as of today I am. Goodbye.”
I still let him come to my birthday party that afternoon, but most of my friends boycotted it since they didn’t think he should be allowed to go. A few showed up and we still had a bit of fun, and a short time later, I took him back…kind of. Within a few weeks, I got bored of him and moved on. A number of years later, we met up at a house warming party for a mutual friend of ours. By the end of the night, he cried and cried, claiming that I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he had screwed it up. I told him that it had been so long ago, that it didn’t really matter, but I guess it did. I haven’t seen him since.