Posts Tagged ‘duywrites’


This post originated from a question on Quora: How can someone forget their first love and move on in life? As I was writing up the answer, I thought it’d be better if I made it a standalone post of my own. 

first loves

We were young. We fucked up.

That’s essentially my answer nowadays when enquired about what happened with my very first love.

You know, the thing that’s believed to mystically stay with us forever?

Well, I happen to believe in the myth. At least to a large extent.

The reasons vary, but I believe most can be traced back to two factors: the devouring intensity and the brief lifespan of it.

First love is an extraordinary sort of fever that consumes us. And we offer ourselves willingly.

Bar a number of people, most of us had/are having/will have our first love at a young age, often during our adolescence. The time when our hormones were raging and we just stepped out of childhood was probably the (relatively) worst time to fall in love.

We weren’t emotionally mature. Hell, we weren’t even physically mature to undertake such a monumental endeavour like love.

But love happened to us all the same. And at that tender age, everything around us was amplified through a gigantic magnifying glass.

The first person who stole our heart is no exception.

A brief “Good morning” text lifts our mood the entire day.

A slight touch of the hand put our heart on fire.

Even being in the same space with them without talking to each other can be exquisitely suffocating.

I know because I have been there.

Pure passion and no restraint, we romanticise love to the point of absurdity. But it was exactly that absurdity that bound us and made our heart scream with excitement.

Take a look at John Clare’s poem “First Love”

I ne’er was struck before that hour
   With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
   And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale,
   My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
   My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
   And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
   Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
   Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string,
   And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter’s choice?
   Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
   Not love’s appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
   As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
   And can return no more.

The infatuation was palpable.

We do crazy shit for our first love.

I did crazy shit for my first love.

Like waking up at 6AM, travelling to the airport and waiting for close to 2 hours just to be the first person to greet her. And yes, I made an improvised Hello sign with her name on it too, bonus points for dramatic flair.

On another occasion, I made a mixtape for her from scratched. The whole shebang. I put together a list of songs. I designed the CD and the cover. I found a place to burn the CD and put everything together. Contacted someone to have it delivered to her too.

I was barely eighteen at the time.

Ah, the lengths we go to for love.

Rapper 50 Cent says in one of his songs: “I love you like a fat kid love cake.”

Have you ever seen a fat kid who loves cake?

It’s the kind of unequivocal, unrelenting and unquenchable sensation that best describes how it feels like to love for the first time.

(For the record, I am fat. And I love cake. Cake ftw!)

It was the immaturity, the audacity, the recklessness that keeps us going. We happily hold the torchlight that always burns bright as day, even if sometimes it scalds our hand a little bit. The emotional intensity can be intoxicating and addictive, considering this is the first time we’ve come to know it.

We are carefree with our first love. The whole world just doesn’t matter. Nothing else but the person matters. It is this time that I believe one can be truly drunken with love. Our peripheral vision gets narrowed down into the size of a body frame. At the first kiss, we feel like we are going to explode. Again, pure passion and no restraint. First love is a special thing, and there is no denying it.

The second reason why first love stays with us for so long is its early demise.

To this date, I have rarely seen a first love result in a happy ending. Most of those didn’t even transition into a long-term relationship. At the risk of over-generalising, I’d go so far and say first loves are ephemeral and it often takes an incredible amount of effort AND luck to make them not so. Note: I am not condemning all first loves to certain, inescapable doom. I am just saying that the probability of high school sweethearts living happily ever after is strikingly low. And no, I have little empirical data to back that up. All I have is this quote:

Did I think he was “the one”? I’ll never know. At sixteen, everyone is “the one.” – K. A. Tucker

The problem lies with amplification. When things are good, they are heavenly good. When things are bad, they are, well, pretty fucking bad.

At the beginning, we are with each other and only with each other, there was no worldly needs involved. However, when the young love is put through the trials of life, things get rocky very quickly.

We are often too dazzled by the light that we forget it is blinding us.

A silly mistake can turn into an ugly fight.

A small obstacle can be seen as insurmountable.

A seemingly trivial matter can swiftly put an end to things.

As I have written, first-time lovers often lack the emotional capacity to handle challenges with maturity. I should stress that the death of first love is often due to neither party’s fault. We just suppose that everything is going to be perfect forever because we have found our perfect soul mate. So when an imperfection turns up (often out of the blue), we have no clue how to deal with it, and how to deal with it together. We mess up.

I partly agree with Benjamin Disraeli’s claim, that “the magic of first love is our ignorance that it can ever end.” Except I’d swap magic for tragedy. That’s more accurate. The dream never seems to end, until one day it does. Because the foundation upon which it was built was not quite than concrete and sustaining. As we mature and experience hardship, first love seems too perfect, too good, too unrealistic. We get the feeling that it is perhaps near inevitable that our first love had come to an end. We realise that it didn’t work out because much of it was due to our own fabrication.

This may sound oddly out of place, but I found this quote from the TV series Westworld to be extremely appropriate to describe the situation:

These violent delights have violent ends.

And to think it originally refers to Romeo and Juliet, it makes even more sense.

But it is precisely because of the way first love often ends that it stays with every moment of our waking life. We forged a close bond, experienced many unforgettable memories, and fell apart. Now we look back, with fondness and nostalgia, to when we were innocent once, when the whole world didn’t matter, when we felt invincible with the other person by our side. And it is impossible to ever love like that again. The only thing we can do is live on.

That’s what happens with your first love. It carves a hole in the muscle and fiber, so that you have no choice but to wear it like a birthmark.
—Rebecca Tsaros Dickson

The first flame always burns the brightest. Even if it is short-lived. Especially if it is short-lived.

Which brings me back to where I began.

We were young. We fucked up.

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That’s probably the end. I’ve gotta get back to prepping for work. That report ain’t gonna write itself.

Ciao.