First Love

I just finished reading a book, actually it’s a compilation of short stories. It is composed of eleven stories that talks about the different experiences of falling in love for the first time. It’s a good book. Some stories are funny and would really make you laugh, while some are sad, and deep.

There’s a story there that I really liked. Maybe it’s because it’s a sad story and I’m a sucker for sad stories or maybe because somehow I could relate to the narrator’s story. It’s about a doctor who fell in love with his patient who is suffering from depression. The patient was in an accident where her husband was killed and she became withdrawn from the world after that. The doctor, from the very first moment that he saw her instantly felt some kind of a pull and his instincts told him that no matter what he did, he would not be able to remain detached. There’s a part in the story, towards the end where the patient was sitting by the window and the doctor was at her back, holding her shoulders, and he was struggling with himself not to shake the girl into reality. And in the end, he just content himself with embracing her because deep down he knows that they are going through the same thing, loving someone who won’t be able to love them back. It’s so sad.

But there are also some funny stories in the book. There are some who ended up with their first loves, there was also a story there of a couple who experienced first love in their sixties, then there was a story about a girl who fell in love with her brother’s friend and from then on every guy that she meets, she compares with her first love.

The stories in the book somehow made me think that we can never really be free from our first love. Yes, the feelings may be gone, but somehow the memories will remain. After all, firsts are almost always remembered, is it not? The seconds, the thirds, the fourths, we may not always remember them. But the firsts, the memory of our firsts would always be with us. Some of us may remember the first time we fell in love with a smile in our lips, some may remember with tears, some with anger.

As for me, this is particularly true. I may not love him anymore but somewhere in the deepest corners of my heart I know he still occupies some space. Whenever I’ll chance upon his or his wife’s page in Friendster and I’ll see how happy they are, I’d also feel happy for them. I’ll be glad that their marriage is going strong and that the love they had when we’re in college is still there and it seems that it’s getting deeper with the passing of time. And then I’d smile that wistful smile. The smile that says “I wish it was me”. Oh well. First love.