The first cut is the deepest

Do you remember your first love at all? It is said that the first love brands a person for life. Just like your first love, the future partner will be – well, and supposedly also always a bit like your dad.

My first love was Greg. Whatever “first love” means. Actually, I was always in love somehow. At the age of 16, every boy is potential husband material. It was a different story with Greg though. He wasn’t one of the most lively people. He came to my school near Berlin (Germany) as an exchange teacher and tried to teach us decent english. Which turned out to be a bit of a tough job for him as everyone was only interested in the naughty bits of the language. Even though he was a total pru, he had a lot good things going for him. He was english, for a start. Also, he was quite good looking older (I always liked older guys) and very clever. Also, he had his really sexy english accent when he spoke German. And he was probably the only person in the entire school with shorter hair than me. It took about the entire first half term until I really noticed him. .

He really caught my eye on an exchange school trip to London. Greg was sitting two rows ahead of me and was trying to teach chess to some of my class mates. And even though I found that game entirely boring – I was suddenly incredibly interested in it. It was his hands that really caught my interest. They were really big and his fingers were long – just like a piano player – very sexy. Back in Berlin, I decided Greg’s English class which started to join a language competition. We tried to rewrite the story of Sleeping Beauty. In our case, however, she was highly narcoleptic and woke up in several different places. In the age of 32, looking back at this kind of idea for a story is highly embarrassing. But when I was 16, this was the ultimate rebel idea. LET’S MAKE FUN OF SLEEPING BEAUTY!!!! There was always this little thing between Greg and myself but I could never figure out what it was. He grinned at me whenever we met on the street, what happened incredibly often. Sometimes I even had messages in my mailbox, that he came to see me to get some ideas sorted or to get some details clear. Mostly I wasn’t at home. His timing was just not right. 6 years after the unification, my part of the world was still short of phones and so we had to rely on people turning up for appointments (dates) or we had to write letters. Do you remember letters? These things made of paper and they smelled so lovely. Nowadays you have to explain to most people what letters are. However, Greg and I met up for long walks and deep conversations about him. It was beautiful.

Soon it was really cold and Christmas was approaching. Together with my friends we went to the movies and afterwards to the Christmas market. It was a beautiful afternoon until the point of utter embarrassment. I decided to buy Greg a nice little gingerbread heart saying “I like you” on it. Greg’s prompt response was: “I still have chocolate from London.” Well, what can I say? A simple “thank you” would have been too easy, i guess. Of course, he realised that I was upset and invited me to dinner. But because he didn’t have to deal with immature 16 year olds before he was kind of surprised that I invited my friends along too. The weekend was done for me. I spent the rest of the weekend being sulky and tried to get rid of the idea of having a husband and family ever in my life.

Monday came and the first lesson we had was English with Greg. I decided to ignore him and put my most arrogant face expression on. However, it didn’t go quite to plan as Greg decided to give me a present in front of the entire class. “Lightning Seeds – Marvellous”, a CD that still makes me smile when I see it in my shelf. That was his last act before Christmas. He went to see his brother in Barbados for Christmas. Back again, I invited him to a party. Somehow he found out that it was my birthday and gave me a necklace of shells, which he had brought from Barbados. It still has a firm place in my jewelry box. We spent the rest of the winter meeting up for visits to exhibitions, frequent visits to my place and the first kiss.

Soon it turned spring and the school year was almost over. Greg’s departure back to the UK got closer. He promised to call me on my brand new mobile before he would go on the bus. I never found out what happened that night but he never called.

Almost two years later I met him by chance in the subway. He was visiting Berlin. I stopped as if frozen. He came up to me and hugged and kissed me. We met a few times before he had to return to England. This time it was not as harmless as it was back then. Almost a whole year, we stayed in touch, then he broke off again. I thought nothing of it. He probably just had a girlfriend. But somehow I was angry – he could at least have said goodbye. Now he was gone again. The second time.

A few months later my phone rang. Greg desperately tried to talk to me, but I was too angry and hung up on him. That was the last time I had heard of him.It was shortly before Christmas and I was working at a radio station when I called back my friend. She had asked me to, because she wanted to tell me something important. It was late that night, I finished work early and wanted to listen to her latest adventure, before I went home.

Unfortunately, this conversation did not develop quite as I thought. She told me about Greg’s suicide. It made my heart heavy. He had been sick and had thrown himself off a monument. I could not believe it – this time he was gone forever and I was the one who didn’t say goodbye. Later the following year I received a package from his parents. It was full of letters he had written to me but never sent. Even today, I read them sometimes.

Men came and went in the following years, but still I think of Greg. No longer angry, but still a little sad. I sometimes wonder what he wanted to tell me that time on the phone if I had not been so immature.

See, this is the thing with the “first love” – no matter how it turns out in the end – one will never forget it. It is just so beautiful and sometimes even sooooo painful.