Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Hair

When I was 15 I met my first Him-stake, T.  He had long blonde hair with banana curls and big blue eyes. He was a diver who had bow legs and always rolled his cuffs at his ankles. He was adorable and always wore a Michigan State sweatshirt. Wait…maybe he was gay…


He lived down the hill from me and had an old red mustang with white interior. We used to meet on summer nights before we could drive and walk around the neighborhood holding hands, or watching TV in his basement while his little brother would peek down the stairs trying to catch us kissing.  Once he got the ‘Stang running we would cruise around with our friends, windows down in the summer air, Great White blaring on the radio, drinking Little Kings from the trunk on our way to parking down by the river.  His family drank copious amounts of tea… I adore his parents, and miss them more than I miss him (which is not at all). There was a route we would always take, leaving from his house, back roads to South River Road, then pulling off into the spot down by the river only our group knew about. To this day my favorite smell is of a bonfire. It never fails to take me back to how his hair would smell after a night hanging at the river, like chlorine and fire smoke. We would take 2 or 3 cars, trek through the mud down to the “spot”, light the Coleman lanterns, spark up the fire and…ahem something else, grab the cozies and rock the night away.

T would break up with me about every other month and this went on throughout high school. We would get together, last a month or two.  T would get quiet for a week – no phone calls, avoiding me in the halls – then break up with me via note folded into the shape of a triangle with the corner tucked in. For whatever reason I fell for this act about a hundred times in the 4 years of high school and, to this day, whenever someone I’m dating gets silent on me for more than a few days I am thrown into an automatic PTSD reaction. T & K had a reputation for always being together, and god help the skank who would try to date him whenever we were “on a break”. (People still associate me with dating him.) My first girl fight was due to someone who wanted to knock me down in the hierarchy. I’ll never forget her lunging at me, me smacking her in the nose, and her hitting the ground. Daddy always said, “If you know you’re going to fight, sock ‘em right in the nose and they’ll drop like a bad habit,” and boy, was he right. I had a reputation for being a total bad ass after that. Sweet little ‘ole passive me. Never got into anymore fights though…

So right after Isabel was born T and I somehow got back into contact and started dating again. You would think at age 29 I would have known better but alas I fell under his spell. I’ll give you one guess as to what happened…

Lessons learned from my time with T:

  • Any guy who doesn’t have a willingness to communicate right from the beginning will not magically learn how to do so later.
  • Don’t date a guy with prettier hair than you.
  • Guys who rolled their jeans in high school were asshats then and are probably asshats now.
  • Don’t idealize your first love. He really was a little dick. Literally.
  • If a guy owns a ferret he has issues.
  • If they break your heart once, shame on them. If they break your heart twice, shame on you. If they break your heart for the 73rd time, you need therapy.

~ by PoshmarkPaige on May 13, 2009.

3 Responses to “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Hair”

  1. Not 73 times..somewhere in between, and likely I do

  2. […] were together for about a year in high school, (during an oddly long break-up spell with T) and I honestly don’t have any bad mammaries, I mean memories, about him. He was a cutie pie and […]

  3. […] and when I started dating him it was with the intent of having someone to fill the space during a T void. (As were most of my high school relationships that were not him.) It started out innocently […]

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