"Wouldn't it be nice if we were older,

"And we wouldn't have to wait so long,

And wouldn't it be nice to live together

In the kind of world where we belong,

You know it's gonna make it that much better,

When we can say goodnight and stay together,

Oh wouldn't it be nice..."

-The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds, 1966

The first one. Like, the first real one. I was seventeen years old, about to graduate high school and start a whole new chapter of my life. High school bud-ling into college bound young woman.

And then, of course, I got smacked in the face by a terrible, terrible case of stomach-swerving, tongue-swelling, can't go without 24 hours of talking to each other L-O-V-E. I mean, for real.

I have this theory that if one is on a precipice, right smack on the verge of plummeting into something completely life-altering and novel, THAT is the moment where you will meet someone who really rocks your world. Of course. OF COURSE, Universe.

This story is a long one.

Bob and I had been classmates for 7 years. I had always known him as this absolutely ridiculous ham of a human being, one who NEVER missed a chance to be funny, dress funny, make people laugh and be the center of attention. He had a huge personality and always loved being very involved in school activities. Towards the end of my senior year in 2005, after school let out at 8th period, I would leave my art history class which was next door to the TV Studio in the East Building of Enloe High School. I would usually run into my friend Aaron Motsinger, we'd stand around and chat, and at some point, Bob would join us. We would then begin the trek from the East building over to where our cars were parked on the other side of school. As spring began to blossom, I saw less and less of Aaron after 8th period and more and more of Bob. Eventually, I began the game of "time-yourself-to-see-how-exactly-perfectly-you-can-run-into-him-so-it-looks-nonchalant-and-unplanned-and-completely-coincidental". Every girl who has gone to school has played this game before, to some extent.

Our after school conversations somehow turned into something more...Bob was the goalie for the lacrosse team and somehow I found myself becoming more and more interested and involved with attending their games. I had other friends on the team, of course, but I became the number one fan of the Enloe High School men's lacross team. At one point, I even took an XXL "Enloe Lacrosse" T-Shirt and sewed it into a jersey dress that I would wear to all the games.

I've mentioned before that once I'm sold on someone, I'm not ashamed to show it. I think wearing a self-constructed jersey dress advertising the sport I came to watch really took the cake on all the embarrassing displays of affection I've concocted. I might as well have run across the field during half-time wearing a sandwich board painted with "I LOVE BOB EVERETT" on both sides of it.

I got an extraordinarily positive response from the dress, mostly from the lacrosse guys, so I continued my support throughout the spring. I showed my affection for Bob in other ways too, one time I baked him an apple pie and left it, fresh and hot, in the drivers seat of his Chevy, because I bet him that if I was wrong about some random thing I insisted on, I would bake him one. I haven't the slightest recollection of what that "random thing" was, but I'm absolutely sure I insisted purposely wrong just so I could bake him the pie.

I am a ridiculous human.

Anyways, Bob invited me over one afternoon to "tutor him in Algebra". Pah!!! Tutor, my ASS. He ended up physically assaulting me and we had a drag-out tickle/wrestling fight all over the living room. Apparently this was the 17 year old Bob's way of saying, "I like you, too."

At the end of my senior year of high school, there was about a 10-day span of each department of the high school holding a special event to honor the seniors in the group. OBVIOUSLY my "people" were the Drama Kids, and each spring the Drama Club held one such event. Even better, everyone got dressed up in cocktail attire and serenaded each other with special performances. There was bound to be one selection in particular that would bring everyone into sobbing "oh-shit-we're-graduating-from-our-comfort-zone" hysterics; my year it was Oasis' "Wonderwall" being performed on an acoustic guitar by a lad named Corey.

The day of this event, I was with Bob in the afternoon, and since I knew he had an affinity for dressing up, I invited him to attend. As I was leaving his house, he haphazardly grabbed me by the shoulders and planted the fattest smooch on me, leaving me in complete awe. I had day-dreamed about this moment for weeks...just waiting for him to make the first move. Knees shaking, I got into my car and barely managed to squeak out, "I'll see you tonight...I guess..." and drove away with the stupidest, toothiest grin on my face.

That night, at the awards ceremony, there was a miscommuncation with the Drama Department, and my name wasn't announced as a recognized senior. I sat there, waiting, as one by one, all of my friends were called up and applauded for their moment of recognition. I sat perched on the edge of my seat, just waiting, thinking, "Oh, well, surely I'll just be at the end, then. Yeah, they're going in alphabetical order, but, you know, I'll be in there eventually."

And then, it came: "Please give one more round of applause for our talented, hard working seniors as we wish them all the best in their years to come! It's been a joy working with each and every one of you!"

I was glued to my seat. Exasperated, not exactly sure whether I should march myself up on stage saying, "Um, SURELY you've forgotten me", or burst into tears and run out of the auditorium, I weakly applauded and watched everyone else on stage cry and hug and wave.

I chose the latter option. I tried to be as graceful as possible, with an, "Oh, I'm just running to the facilities..." air about me, but I'm sure I wasn't successful. I made it just outside the auditorium and around the corner before I collapsed onto the floor and cried my heart out. This was supposed to be MY night, too! I should have been up there with all of my friends, being recognized as a senior who was involved with almost every single play since 2003!! I had never felt so excluded and utterly rejected.

And then, who should walk around the corner with a flower? It was Bob. Apparently he had seen me dash outside of the auditorium in a fit and followed me right out. I was SO humiliated....teary and blotchy and snotty no doubt with mascara streaming down my face and all over my cocktail dress. He helped me up and walked me to my car and just hugged me as I tried to blurt out, "THEY sniff DIDN'T snort CALL sniff MY whimper NA-A-A-A-AMMMME!!! sniffsnortsniff".

Sweet, sweet Bob. He suggested we leave and go for a drive. Of course I accepted his offer.

He put me in his Chevy and drove me to the North Carolina Museum of Art, where they had extensive outside grounds. We parked the car and decided to just walk. He held my hand and we followed the winding path through all the outside art installations to the bridge above I-440. By this time, Bob had me cackling and howling about something ridiculous. He was always good at cheering me up and putting me in a jolly disposition no matter what the situation.

By the time we got to the bridge, the air was crisp and full of electricity. I had never had so much fun with someone I also wanted to kiss, I had never been able to just TALK and be myself and not worry about saying something utterly stupid, because if I did, Bob would just laugh at it. Not laugh in a mocking way, but in a wonderful way. We kissed for forever on that bridge. I didn't care about anything else anymore. I didn't care that I was graduating and that he was a year younger, and I didn't care that I was leaving Raleigh and going to college, and I didn't care that I had just been dumped on my ass by the Drama department. Nothing mattered, nothing except I had a wonderful boy in my arms and he made me feel wonderful. That night sealed the deal.

For the rest of the summer, we were inseparable. He would surprise me at work, he would come over and cook breakfast, he would take me to concerts and drive me around in the truck and we would sing bluegrass. I would cozy up next to him in the middle of the seat, just like they talk about in all those country songs, and stick my bare feet out the window. I have never felt that way since. I was so, so very in love with him. In that pure, naive, and perfect way that a 17 year old has the capacity to love. My grandmother from Missouri met him and said to me, "You know, that young man reminds me of your grandfather."

Towards the end of July, he had started football camp for the coming fall and I was getting ready to go to college, literally and emotionally. We had briefly discussed it and came to the conclusion of, "Well, Chapel Hill is only 30 minutes away, we'll just see how it goes!". However, I felt him pulling away slightly. Something just was off.

One afternoon, he invited me over and was really weird on the phone. I got over there, my normal, bouncing, in-love self, but could tell that he was totally cold. We sat on the couch and he explained, I truly believe to the best of his ability, that he didn't want to continue being together while I was in college. I felt like my organs had fallen out of my body and exploded on the floor.

I cried, in exasperation, "But, but, I love you!"

WRONG. So wrong. The time to tell someone that you LOVE them is NOT, as I learned from this experience, when they are trying to tell you that they no longer wish to be in a relationship with you. Insisting that you LOVE them in panic does NOT change their mind. It only makes them feel terrible and awful even further.

I lost my cool, and sprinted out of the house, into my car, and I do not remember where I drove that afternoon. I don't remember the rest of that day. Someone had taken away the best thing that had ever happened to me, at that point, and the worst part was that the SOMEONE who had done the taking was, in fact, THE BEST THING in question.

Breakups are hard. Getting dumped by the first person that you truly feel something real for is even harder. I learned over time, that it was for the best for me to start college with a clean slate, even though the only person I thought about my entire freshman year was Bob. His memory haunted me, and to be honest with you, it still does. I still think about Bob and the possibility of "if". 17 year old Sara was so consumed with that feeling that I think it's only natural.

In the years past, there have been hiccups between Bob and I. We've gotten together both as friends...and as more...and it's only egged me on in a way that isn't good. But I think most people have been there. It's really hard to feel something so intense and make it go away all together. I think most people have had hiccups with a person who was very important to them in their lives, even after the relationship is over. I think it has something to do with comfort and "for old times' sake". Bob and I are still friends, very good friends. He knows me better than most people do and I still trust him more than most people I know. He is a good person, and even though at one point it felt like he broke me in half, I now understand why, and that it was for my benefit in the end.

Bob gave me the gift of that feeling of being sweetly and so very ultimately 17 years old, and also that it's okay to be young at heart. I will always carry that with me.