We were both five. He was a few months older than me but, of course, in those days a few months equaled a few years. He was older. And taller. What I’m trying to get at here is that he was mature. And he was my boyfriend.
We liked to play under towel-tents at the pool and play computer games on goldfish dot com. I introduced him to French fries with honey mustard and he drove me around in his battery-powered Jeep. We rarely fought and often talked about how we would one day be married when we were both thirteen and it would be legal.
Life was a dream and, as we would often tell people, we were in love.
Let me reference here again the fact here that we were both five.
But he was more than just my first love and my first relationship, he was another big first for me, and that would be the first time I spent the night at a boy’s house.
I will again reference here that we were five.
Our moms, as expected, could not have encouraged this any more than they already did, and they were perfectly aware of the cuteness points that their children’s involvement brought in. For this particular sleepover, I was dropped off at his house with a duffle bag in hand. The moms chitchatted, we played with the dog, hours passed.
By the mid-afternoon, however, our imaginations had reached their limit and we needed entertainment. Attention spans were short in those days (again, we were five) and after much badgering, his mom eventually packed us in the car and we found ourselves at the mall in a Build-a-Bear.
It was so romantic.
Entering the yellow-lit store, we pawed through bins of empty cotton animals and delighted over mini outfits. Per the rules we picked, we stuffed and then, for those less familiar with the Build-a-Bear process, the next step involved a wish. As any real bear builder knows, one then takes a small fabric heart, whispers a wish into it and stuffs the heart into the bear and sews it up tight before the wish can seep out.
But together we broke the rules a little here, me and my boyfriend. He took my heart, and I took his, and we both made a promise: “One day, we’re going to get married.” Then, we buried the wishes deep in the cotton fluff and stitched up the backs. Our secrets were safe with each other and there was no way this wasn’t true love.
After a very long day out, the ripe old time of 8:30 finally rolled around and back at his home we found ourselves exhausted. Hand-in-hand, we made our way to his playroom where a tent was already set up—because tents, as we all know, are really really cool, especially when inside. It didn’t take long for us to drift off to sleep, surrounded by a pile of blankets and Build-a-Bears.
Just a little girl and her boyfriend.
…
(While, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and my young love and I eventually parted ways, he came back into my life about seven years later in middle school and we have been hella tight friends ever since. This was taken about a year ago, and we have coffee plans for winter break for which I’m very excited 😊)