To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

1979

“Children, behave!”
That’s what they say when we’re together

Tommy James & The Shondells

Jay-Jay: I was three years old; you were almost five. ‘Cousins’ was what we thought we were — your mom and dad were ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ to me, and mine to you — and though it took us another few years to work out that we weren’t actually cousins, we considered each other family… Until our respective families broke up.

Our younger brothers were born at about the same time, and our third much-later siblings as well. I suspect our parents were in a strange kind of competition about that. Even our mothers’ dogs matched.

But the only thing that matched about you and me was our little portable record players. Besides being the first Superman to my pint-sized Wonder Woman, you and I were pretty amazing at dancing to the Monster Mash. I wonder if you still dance…

1988

Why can’t we be friends?

War

Chris & Chris: My best girlfriend was jealous of my friendship with the two of you — who were good friends with one another — because while she was making eyes your way, trying to get you to spend some time and attention on her, you were busy hanging out with me. Both of you were crude. Funny as fuck and fun to be with, but always too quick to cover up your intelligence — why is it that it was okay for me to be a “smart kid” at school but it was not okay for you? — the two of you treated me like one of the guys. It’s something I appreciated then, but I think it hits home for me even more so now. We walked home from school together in the fall, dropping one another off at our respective homes along the way, and played hockey at the park rink in winter time.

And then I moved away.

Two-towns-over friendships don’t survive familial upheaval during late ’80s adolescence; ours was no exception.

I sometimes wonder what you guys are doing now. I heard that one of you is still funny — enough so that you’re making a living as a comedian — but I also heard that you got pretty fucked up along the way to where you are today. Maybe I’ll see you on stage one day.

1991

I hate myself for lovin’ you

Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Otis: God, what an asshole you were.

But that mouth… Lord, what it could do when it wasn’t talking…

Part of your appeal, I think, is that you were someone my parents did NOT approve of. (That, and what you could do with your hands when I put myself in them.)

It’s too bad you couldn’t figure out that treating me right had much more to do with what happened in everyday life than in the back seat of your dad’s Chevy.

From what little I’ve heard, you never quite figured it out with anyone who came after me either.

I think you were my first-ever ‘romantic’ love.

But you were an asshole.

I suspect you still are.

1994

Any time you call, night or day
I’ll be right there for you when you need a friend

Tesla

Daniel: We were friends.

And then, after the girl you’d been chasing threw you over and the boy I thought was worth something turned out not to be…

We were more than friends.

You asked me to marry you and I said yes.

Several years later — years filled with college (me) and military life (you) — I rethought that yes.

We were too much alike in some ways, I think. Too disparately different in others.

You carried my ring — my engagement ring, the one that accompanied the original “yes” — in your pocket for a long time after I called a halt. “To remind me,” you tried to explain once, “of what I can lose.”

I wonder if you learned from that.

Did you ever find somebody with whom you were more compatible?

I did…

In 2003.

(And 18 years later, I still do.)

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These are, of course, not ALL the boys I’ve loved before. 😉 But this sampling — post title taken from Julio Iglesias’ To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before — seemed apropos for my September Song Project.

To see what the project is about, or to join me in writing your musically-inspired musings this month, click the badge above.