ah, first love...

Picture it: College Station, some 15 years ago today (actually, yesterday). A 17-year-old girl sits in her apartment. Her roommate is out of town. Her cat, Bootsy, is cranky. And, she's doing laundry, because she is in her last clean outfit.

As I sat there on a Thursday night, thinking about the weekend and wishing we had cable, my telephone rang. Alex Dyshenko called me, "Come to this party at my friends house!" I declined, as it was laundry day, and I was wearing no make-up, a ponytail on the tippy top of my head, and I also had on my glasses. "You'll be sorry. This is an awesome party!, " he enthused. I declined again, and told Alex I'd see him the next day (we both worked at the mall).

About ten minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Two guesses who it was. That's right, it was Alex. "C'mon, let's go." It wasn't even an option. I agreed to go, as long as I could drive. I wasn't planning on staying long, and since I had the roommate's car, and didn't have anything else to do, I went.

I don't remember too much about the party. It was at James' apartment. I remember not even having a beer. And then, I saw him. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Fantastic smile. Holding a Coors Light can. It was Adrian. I still remember the way he looked that night.

From across the party, we smiled at each other a couple of times. And then, when I was saying goodnight to everyone outside, he wobbled up to me. "Who the fuck are you?," he asked me. "Who the fuck are *you*?," was my immediate reply. He introduced himself, and we started to talk. I explained to him that I was leaving, and that I hoped they'd have fun. And then, for no real reason, I asked him if he needed a ride. He was, after all, drunk. He told me to wait right there, that he was going to say bye to James and all the guys. Alex gave me a wink and a smile.

A couple minutes later, he strolled back outside, holding a fresh Coors Light. "Okay, let's go!," he enthused. "Okay, get in!," I replied. I am glad he was drunk, because I was not the master race car drive that I am today. He directed me up Southwest Parkway to his apartment. I walked him to the stairs. He turned and looked at me, and gave me a kiss. I was immediately in love. Then, he told me his parents were upstairs, because he'd just moved into the apartment the previous day. My response? "That's cool. I wasn't going to take you upstairs and fuck you. I just didn't want you to drive home drunk." What a pretty mouth on a young girl!

He whipped out his wallet, grabbed a deposit slip out of his checkbook, and ripped off the top part, with his name, address and phone number. "I like you," he said. "But you're going to have to call me." He mushed the slip into my hand, gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and toddled upstairs to presumably pass out.

I took his number, and called him the next day. Remember, I was a teenager. Had no idea how this stuff worked. Also, this is five years before "Swingers" set the three day standard.

I must have done something right, because we were together until I was 22. It was not always the best relationship. Obviously, or we'd still be together. I hear he's married now and happy and having babies.

So, here's to ya, Adrian Segura *raises can of Dr Pepper*

I hope that your life is working out just as you planned and I hope that you're happy doing whatever you do. Thank you for being my first adult relationship and teaching me a lot.

I will never forget that night. It's the night I first felt like a "grown up".