My first break up letter, from my girlfriend Kim, written in 1977, when I was 11. She was 2 years older than me, my first French kiss. She handed me the note and as I walked home after reading it, my little heart broken, I ripped it up and let the pieces fall behind me. I didn’t notice that Kim had followed me and picked them up, which she presented to me years later.
She was a tomboy, I was a sissy. Once the other boys in the neighborhood tied Kim up to a tree and dangled daddy long-leg spiders in front of her. I don’t think I could have survived such an ordeal, my knees trembled at the thought, but Kim just laughed, defiantly undaunted. I was in awe. In the mid-90s she and her girlfriend and I drove back to our old hometown and revisited the sites of our pre-teen romance. We speculated that our attraction to each other as children could have been the foundations for our later same-sex desires, each of us exhibiting characteristics that we associated with the opposite sex.
We actually got in a real fight once, after the breakup. At school, between classes, she would try to trip me on the stairs as we passed each other, headed in opposite directions. Remember, she was 2 years older, a big scary tomboy. After school one day in the driveway of a mutual friend, she kicked my skateboard and I just couldn’t take it anymore and slugged her, right in the face. (You have to imagine the punch coming from someone who struck out in kickball, to get an accurate picture of my assault.) It’s the only time I’ve ever struck anyone. I ran home sobbing.
A few years later, after my family had moved to a different town, Kim and I had a date. I was maybe 14 then, and she at 16 had been having a serious relationship with some guy. We double-dated with some friends of hers who had a car, and went somewhere and parked the car and made out, Lionel Ritchie on the car stereo. It was obvious to me that she had learned some things from this guy, for she was very quickly batting us around all the bases. No home run, but I couldn’t wait to tell my friends.
…break up. I… to get… took me… to get up… before… you …I been going with you… too long. I… you a little bit, not enough… on this relationship. I’m sorry, Kim. And then, in a little heart, Kim doesn’t love Chris anymore.