A post on a friend's blog today got me thinking about an old boyfriend...my first, true, love. Even though, this post will be out of the time line sequence of my life, I'm writing it now while it's on my mind.
In the fall of 1964, I was a freshman at BYU. It was an entirely new world to me, partly because there were so many LDS guys who could be dating prospects. Where I was raised in Virginia, I was the only LDS student in my graduating class of over 500. The boys in my ward all went to other high schools, and besides, it wasn't cool to date a girl in your ward. So my dating experience as a teenager was rather limited. I did date a guy whose family had recently moved into the ward, but he had been at BYU for a year before we met. Anyway...on to the story.
In my BYU ward, there was a good looking young man that I developed a crush on. He fit the category of tall, dark and handsome...well not too tall, but handsome, none the less. I did everything I could to get him to notice me. But I was really surprised when his roommate was the one that asked me out. He wasn't even on my radar.
"J" was tall, blonde, blue-eyed and very nordic looking. On our first date, we drove to Salt Lake and saw "The Sound of Music" at the old Center theater. I was impressed. Especially since prior to the date, he had to get someone to drive him to Salt Lake so he could get his mother's car for our date. For a second date, he rented a Honda scooter and we took a ride up Hobble Creek canyon for a picnic. We quickly became a couple. I readily remember the first time he kissed me. It was while we were watching an outdoor movie on the campus quad on Y Day. Oh, swoon!!!
The guy that I had dated earlier back in Virginia was on a mission. I was waiting for him but we hadn't agreed that I wouldn't date while he was gone. He got a "Dear John" letter from me as my relationship with my new love developed. I was sure that "J" and I were meant for each other. When my parents came out for my older sister's graduation, "J's" mom invited them to Salt Lake for dinner. I left for home with my family reluctantly leaving "J" behind in Salt Lake.
During the summer, we wrote regularly and he occasionally called me. I knew I was in love. When "J" got his mission call to Argentina, he called me. He wanted me to be at his Farewell so he could see me one more time before he left on his mission. In order to get to his Farewell, I had to leave for BYU early and arrange to get a ride from Provo to Salt Lake. My parents arranged for me to get a ride across country with my mother's adult cousin who was making a trip to Utah. We drove straight through from Virginia and I was dropped off at the apartment where I was going to live that fall. I think we arrived the day before the Farewell. My oldest brother was living in Provo and agreed to drive me to Salt Lake for the Farewell. We were a little late to the meeting so I had to sit at the back of the hall. There was no chance to talk to "J" before the meeting started.
Back in those days, after the Farewell, the missionary and his family would form a receiving line after Sacrament meeting for a meet and greet with well wishers. I got in line, anxiously waiting to be reunited with "J" for one last time before he left on his mission.
And that's when the wheels came off the relationship.
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