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The magic of remembering first loves
Do you remember your first love? Do you still think about them now and again? Or maybe they were your first and last? Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Paul Brinkley-Rogers looks back at his own, and the effect they have on him now.
We have three copies of Paul's memoir Please Enjoy Your Happiness to give away. To enter the draw, just leave a comment below.
Paul Brinkley-Rogers
The magic of remembering first loves
Posted on: Fri 12-Feb-16 12:02:51
(36 comments )
Do you remember your first love?
In our later years as we begin separating ourselves from the wear and tear of busy years as mothers or fathers or from full time employment, there will be more chances to reflect on what might have been but never was: a lost first love. This is true for both women and men. In fact I have circles of male friends in several countries in their sixties and seventies who, at odd moments, drift in and out of nostalgia marked by both joy and regret for those days, or weeks or months when they were very young and very much in love for the first time.
I have sometimes thought that this process of remembering, even if it is painful as well as something to be celebrated, is a form of rebirth for those who are becoming old. Quite often in our discussions there is laughter, or a tear or two and sometimes even embarrassment more appropriate for a teenager perhaps then for men who went through life without confessing or disclosing much to their loved ones. Years fall away as these stories of a woman they knew intimately or a girl they met on a bus or even someone they adored who they saw and never met, are unfurled among close male friends. You reach back, and back, and back and remembering becomes a kind of magic in which you are young again.
Here is one story, for example. I am 76. A good friend of mine is 72. I have already gone through the process of remembering and commemorating a first love. My friend was asking me about that experience as if I had somehow injured myself. "Oh," he said. "But didn't that hurt to remember her smile? You kept her letters. Why did you do that? You read them and it is like she is haunting you." I looked at him, closely. "I have the feeling," I said, "that you have letters too. Or maybe a keepsake? Or is it just memories?" He looked chagrined. "I have a lock of her red hair," he said. "When my wife died I snipped it off. She was my first love, you see, and I could never let her go. Every time I touch her hair I think back to the moment I first met her. It was on the beach. She was laughing and running and kicking sand. That, I can never forget. When I remember that, all my years of pain fall away."
I have sometimes thought that this process of remembering, even if it is painful as well as something to be celebrated, is a form of rebirth for those who are becoming old.
In the last couple of years I have had several conversations with total strangers, usually woman, who are curious to know what I have been writing. Here is a phrase often repeated. "Every woman wants to know if he remembers them." They are remembering their first love. Often they are middle aged or they have gone further into life and have grey hair. They have no idea what happened to the boy they knew in their youth. But he is clearly still there with them, a shy youngster they remember who held their hand, or who had a shy smile, or who wrote them a poem or gave them a flower when they were young enough to giggle and flirt and feel the first flush of joyful excitement and wonder. "I am sure he remembers you," I say. "I am sure."
Some older men and women I know have, like me, attempted to trace those they loved when they were young. It is easier now to do that because of the Internet. Type in someone's name at Google, or on Facebook, or pay a small amount to a search service, and surprising things sometimes emerge. Sometimes, of course, there is nothing.
In my case, about five years ago for some unexplainable reason I became curious to know what had happened to a young woman I knew romantically years ago. She was not a first love. But we loved each other briefly with the passion and joy of a first love: actually a really stormy love. I had not had contact with her for 45 years. She had an unusual name. When I knew her she lived in a foreign country. I tried typing her name into Google several times over several months. There was nothing. Maybe she married, I thought, and now had a different surname. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she did not wish to be found by me, or anyone.
And then one day I noticed a brief mention of her name in a very short news article which said she had enrolled her daughter in the same finishing school she had attended as a girl. My heart skipped several beats. I emailed the school, explaining who I was, and I said I would like to make contact with her. There was no reply for a couple of weeks. But then an email appeared from the woman I knew, expressing shock and delight. "If you are who you say you are," she said playfully, "What is my nickname?"
She was married. She had two children. Her husband was a gracious host and invited me to visit. I flew across the ocean. She and I had several dinners together and discovered we were still friends.
Paul's new book Please Enjoy Your Happiness is published by Bluebird and is available from books shops and Amazon. Leave a comment below to be entered into the draw to win one of three copies of the book.
By Paul Brinkley-Rogers
Twitter: @Gransnet
M0nica I do feel sad because I think I was unkind, although I didn't mean to be
audnay what a poignant story. You must have been devastated at the time. 
How could I forget my first love who I met when I was 15 ,we stayed together I was utterly besotted and in love for around 2 years. He then decided that I was too possessive and too fat. It broke my heart totally and completely. Never ever forgot him, amazed to receive an email from him a couple of years ago asking to meet up to relive some of the good times etc. I was tempted especially as I wanted him to see that I had not only lost weight but had been happily married for years. I didn't meet up with him as I was afraid that I would be just as besotted as I was all those years ago and given half a chance would run off with him and live the hippy lifestyle that we both had talked about.
I have hundreds of letters from my first love ,all sorted and tied up in order. I never get hand written letters now so in time they will be something of a rarity though I wouldn't want anyone to read them whilst I'm still alive 
What a fool I was falling in love with someone who treated me badly and other times I was euphoric in his company.
I now realise how women can be taken in and manipulated.
I was fortunate to meet a kind loving man who has been my soul mate for over 45 years.
However from time to time I dream about my first love and it brings it all back. I almost hate him now. He lives with an old friend of mine.
My DGS 5 is besotted with a young madam who picks him up and drops him down. Like Nan like GS 
I wish I could protect him but of course I can't.
My first love sadly died in a motorbike accident, it was 30yrs ago but I think about him often.
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