Tatiana Talks

How Old Were You The First Time You Fell In Love?

Everyday I get an e-mail alert from Women’s Health. Some days this alert promises me new sex positions I have to try tonight (fat chance of that happening) other days they are offering me the best workout for my body type. One may wonder why I don’t discontinue these alerts to my inbox. Simple really (no, I am not just a glutton for punishment) the alerts also include reminders to sign up for Women’s Health’s daily giveaways.

Everyday Women’s Health gives away some really cool prize one cannot live without, with a grand prize drawing once a month. All one has to do is answer a poll question and then click submit. Have I ever won – no, but still I play everyday. It’s like my version of playing my numbers everyday.

So today, I got my alert (Five Ways to Look Better Naked – an article I devoured having recently learned men do internally criticize our naked bodies and just don’t think “oh my god she’s naked” as Cosmo had promised me). The giveaway was a picnic blanket – maybe not the coolest prize ever, but I have been meaning to take in more shows at the Mann Center and a picnic blanket would come in handy for that sort of outing. So I clicked on the link and the poll question appeared: “How old were you the first time you fell in love?” with the options: Elementary School, Teenage years, College, Post-college, Still waiting!, and Doesn’t apply to me.

Forgetting about the option “Doesn’t apply to me” (when I hit submit 2 percent of the respondents had replied this way – that makes my heart hurt. How can this not apply to you? I think I fall in love all the time. Just this morning I thought I could love a tall guy with a beard at Fourbucks who also ordered an Iced Chai latte with soy.), I paused, wondering just how to answer this question. Typically, I don’t have to give these questions much thought (unless I’m trying to remember just how long it has been since I have had a date or sex). But this one – what do they mean by love?

My gut said elementary school; kindergarten, actually. Michael L. He lived down the street from me. He had red hair and a carrying case with 99 different colored crayons. I used to walk by his house wearing just my purple Miss Piggy bathing suit until he came outside to talk to me, which is when I showed him how good I was at turning cartwheels. Then one day, while playing Farmer in the Dell, Michael broke my heart and picked Jaime K. to be his wife instead of me. Worse than that – I ended up the cheese. For those of you that don’t remember this game – at the end, the cheese stands alone. Oh the humanity.

Was my first love Jason D, the skateboarder I fell for as a teenager? I met him during the summer. He was riding his skateboard, I was walking my dog. He followed me home and wrote my address on his skateboard so he would never forget it. He told me he loved me the moment he first saw me. I thought he was so sweet I let him stick his tongue in my mouth. But was that love?

Did I love the One, or did I love the idea of the One? Did I love Wharton or did I love the way Wharton made me feel? Did I love the Douchebag? I trusted him, but is that the same as loving someone?

Mind you, I have never actually uttered the words “I love you” to anyone outside of my family so maybe I should have hit the “Still waiting!” button. But I hate exclamation points (as most of you know), especially unnecessary exclamation points.

So, in the end I went with elementary school when I remembered that I may have written “I love you” on the back of my school photo that I gave to Michael. That and he always let me color with his pink crayon (before he dumped me for that slut Jaime). And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.