Red Writing Hood Meme: First Love

Okay, so this week's Red Writing Hood Meme courtesy The Red Dress Club was a lot of fun to write. I chose a subject I normally try to stay away from (love) for fear of it becoming too cutesy, and got to add a good spin to it. Can you tell who my first love is? Good luck :)

Scoundrel

I was young when I first laid eyes on him. He wasn’t what my parents would have picked for me in the long run- he was indeed tall, with rugged good looks, hair that always seemed unkept, but he had a swagger about him that pulled me in faster than my mind could comprehend. From Day One I was smitten. Maybe it was indeed that swagger that told all around him that he was One Bad MoFo who knew the men wanted BE him, and the ladies wanted to be WITH him. But I saw something different, something in his eyes that was begging to be loved, and cared for, and adored for being himself, not who others thought he was.

Sadly, I lost touch with him. I furthered my education, met new people, saw so many new and exotic places. He was always in the recesses of my mind, hovering there like a shadow, something seen out of the corner of my eye but never fully acknowledged. Life was always too busy, too moving, to slow down and think, “Where is he now?”

Fast forward a handful of years. I was a little older, a little wiser, and somehow I found him. He was in Egypt of all places, someplace I’d never expect to see him. He had pursued an education, taken to traveling the world, a modern day treasure hunter. His unending thirst for knowledge had taken him to the far ends of the earth and back, but he never seemed to stop searching. He had changed in more ways, though- he was harder.  He had been hurt, and it showed. His eyes, still caring, had an edge to them. This was what my parents saw- this is what they wanted to keep me from. But I was pulled in once again, hovering like a moon to his planet, wanting to be closer but never being able to break through the defenses he had surrounded himself with.

I followed him as if in a dream from Egypt to India to Utah. We traveled from Portugal to Venice, and on into Europe- always an adventure with him, not finding what his heart desired. Even when he thought he had found it, it wasn’t truly what he was pining for. If he looked behind him, beside him, and looked me in the eyes, I was positive he’d see that it was me he was needing. If he only took the time to get to know me as I was now and not as I was then, he’d see that we belonged together, that my laidback style complemented his swagger. That my quest for knowledge was second only to his (except maybe his father’s, if we were talking medieval literature), that together we could conquer the evil of the world.  I could only stand back and watch as he moved on without me.

I did see him once more a number of years later. I was raising a family; he was reconnecting with his, with a son he was just learning he had. Seeing him wasn’t the same as it was back in the day when the draw he radiated was undeniable, but it was still nice to see the familiar blue eyes, the unkept and now-graying hair he hid under his battered fedora, and as always, his trusty bullwhip at his side.

:)