Dedicated to:
Stephen Thomas Szasz, March 26, 1960. Still in the hearts, the memories of those who know & love him.
This photo was taken soon after Steve & I began dating. His little sisters were just so precious. I'm deeply grateful to Leslie Szasz VanCleave for the memories & reconnecting with me. She is on the left; Susan is to the right. She was in third grade when I was dating her brother, Steve.
Sometimes, your first love is forever magical as mine was.
The relationship may last a few weeks or a few months or even a few years. There are those first loves that make such a lasting impression, the love for them remains long after the relationship has ended.
Does it really end?
When it lives on in your heart, it will endure long after a breakup or the person passes on.
Please keep in mind that the sharp memory I have is more like a steel trap, less like a sieve. Many people may struggle to remember, my experience is the opposite.
My shaman has taught me to do a mind exercise to be able to wipe that from my memory which is too painful or one that is more of a roadblock, keeping me stuck, if you will.
The dating world is so horrible, I chose to leave it behind in 2012 after having my heart severely broken. I'm single & celibate by choice. Life is so good, this way.
The only man in my life is my Doberman.
Although it's possible to wipe the memories of him from my heart & mind, I choose to remember Steve. His isms, his wild sense of humor. his passion, his sparkling blue eyes, his intelligence with very sharp wit. His love for playing chess. He even named his dog, Chess.
Although there was some residual pain from my first love, most of it was good times, lots of laughs, deep conversations as well as an introduction to opera. La Traviata, La Boheme, Tosca. He was mostly either passionate in his love for anything or he hated it.
Less waffling, oh, he loved waffles! The food, much less so for the indecisiveness that many people display.
Like people, waffles can be lots of different colors.
He was very decisive which was one of his many attributes that appealed to me. He was very clear in his passions, another good one! His tenderness with his 2 little sisters was so sweet to witness.
Many people like to tell of how they met their first love especially when it led to a long & happy marriage. Although he said he didn't believe in marriage, he did ask me to marry him. We did go ring shopping, two teenagers, dreaming our dreams of a possible life together. It stopped short of that. His intentions were still very clear.
How We Met
We were both in high school, went to the same school, rode the same school bus. His family, mom, dad, 2 adorable younger sisters, had moved to Clarkston Michigan from nearby Sterling Heights. The home they moved into was barely a mile from where I lived with my parents, 5 siblings.
I saw myself as the way that other people defined & labeled me, told me who I was. I had no clear identity of who I was, yet. My home life was far from a loving, nurturing one for a child to flourish, grow, mature. I was somewhat shy, bullied at school. Far from a healthy environment for a person to develop boundaries, healthy self-esteem, a sense of being secure. I was a skinny child from a dysfunctional family. A prime victim for bullying. One of the bullies actually moved away, became a movie star. It was a happy day for me as well as the other students she bullied after she left.
She would torment some of the students by calling them "fatso" or "Porky Pig". A neighbor who she ridiculed for his weight would start to cry as soon as we exited the bus, unable to hold off the tears any longer. Now, the same celebrity who ridiculed others is making "poor me" videos about being ridiculed for her excess weight. Posting them online. No makeup, wrinkled face, in dire need of a hair appointment.
KARMA!
It was close to the start of the school year.
The bullying from other students extended to the school bus. Students would sit solo in a seat that could comfortably seat 2 people, sometimes even 3. The bus rule was that the bus driver couldn't continue driving until everyone was sitting down, With so many students blocking my way to sit in the seat where they were, it was often a painful struggle. The bus driver would bark the order to sit down. the other students would be yelling at me to sit down on a seat, yet no one would allow me to sit in the same seat as them.
Often, the bus would stop at my bus stop as one of the last two before continuing on to the school. It would be packed tightly by the time it arrived at Clarkston High School.
I remember that day like it was yesterday.
The bus was very full when it pulled up to the place where I usually got on.
Close to the front there was a guy, a student I had never seen before. He was the only one in the seat with a large stack of books on the seat next to him. He was looking away from me, seemed to be lost in thought, staring out through the window. I stopped by his seat, tried to make eye contact. He just sat there, staring out of the window. The other students & bus driver started yelling at me to sit down. He was the only person in the seat, I had tried to get his attention to ask him to please move his books.
Now the bus driver was threatening me with being suspended from riding the bus, the other students were yelling at me to sit down. One rather pervy guy offered to let me sit on his lap.
Ew.
No thanks.
So, I sat on top of his pile of books.
Oh! That got his attention!
He turned to face me, somewhat annoyed, somewhat amused. Sandy blonde tousled hair, soulful bright blue eyes, a chiseled jawline.
Finally, he spoke.
"If you had said pretty please, can you move your books, I would have moved them."
Taking his cue I said,
"Pretty please can you move your books."
He countered with,
"Pretty please can you move your cute ass."
Raising up enough to allow him to retrieve his books, yet not enough to be threatened with being suspended from riding the school bus. The books looked heavy, so, I told him I could hold half of his books on my lap. The other students who were close enough to hear our exchange of words began laughing, making wisecracks. I heard him mumble under his breath.
Then he looked at me, really looked at me. He had a piercing gaze with a mixture of tiredness, a bit of sadness, a lot of mischief with an adorable grin & braces. After that, when he showed me photos of himself, he seemed to have that same expression as though he was thinking: "You gotta be sh**ting me."
No further words were said. He went back to looking out the window slightly nodding his head, again becoming lost in thought. When the bus had stopped at the school, before I stood up to exit the bus, I told him thank you for letting me sit in the seat with him. He just slightly smiled, softly nodded his head.
One of his many mannerisms that I still love.
We didn't have any classes together, nor did I see him on the bus ride home at the end of the school day. For the next week he wasn't on the bus in the mornings or the afternoons. A mystery.
I didn't know his name, he didn't know mine, I knew he was a new student. That was all.
Day after day, he crossed my mind without seeing him on the bus or at school. Although he was a very memorable guy, life marches on. He made a strong impression on me, though it was fading with time.
His absence did make me more curious about him.
It was a full month later when the school bus stopped to pick me up. There he was!
He was sitting in a seat by himself, again, fewer books. He smiled that adorable grin, when he saw me, picked his books up, patted the space next to him for me to sit down.
I didn't want to know his name, I NEEDED to know his name. So, I introduced myself, he told me his name. Now, I had a name to put with an attractive face.
I asked him where he had been.
His reply was, "Oh, you don't really want to know even half of it."
Taking the reply at face value, I told him that I had hoped that I would see him again.
He looked a bit surprised, feigning a look around as if I were speaking to someone else, not him. He gestured to himself with his thumb, I nodded in the affirmative. The conversation was brief, as the bus neared the school. He looked very pensive, then, told me that I had made an impression on him. I was DYING to get some contact information in case he disappeared again.
It was almost as if he was reading my mind. He is one of the few people I have known who can correctly read my mind.
Maybe Steve simply had the presence of mind to articulate it correctly - every time. Then, he spoke up.
"Hey, I hope that you won't think this is too forward, can I have your phone number, or can I give you mine? Just in case you need a stack of books to sit on, some time."
It felt like a current of electricity went through my entire body.
I laughed, he just smiled. He did that soft nodding that started at his chin, softly filtering the movement down to his feet. It's doubtful that he was even consciously doing it which made it even more charming, he sure charmed me!
Writing my phone number on a slip of paper, he took it from me, unbuttoned a pocket on the front of his shirt, deposited the slip of paper with my number, buttoned the pocket. Patted the pocket with his palm.
(313) 394 - 0319
"For safe keeping. Next to my heart. Can I call you tonight?"
As I stated earlier, he made his intentions clear. I nodded a yes.
His name was Steve. His mother was originally from Canada, his father was originally from Hungary.
Wow. That was quite exotic to me. Life in a small town!
That was the start. It felt like an electric current was running through me. The initial connection was very strong.
We spoke on the phone nearly every evening. Often, he had to take care of his 2 younger sisters while his parents were at work. One evening, he phoned me right after school. He hadn't been on the bus that day or even for a week before that.
He told me that his mother was making something called Paprikash Chicken. He asked if he could drive down, pick me up & take me to his home. I asked my mom who was hovering nearby. She asked to speak to him. Steve assured her that his mother & 2 sisters were home, that his mother had suggested that he invite me over for dinner.
I heard him tell my mom that he wasn't going to corrupt me.... yet. Yes, he was brash enough to say:
"Don't worry Mrs. Garten, I haven't decided to corrupt her.........yet."
After my mother finished speaking to Steve, she hung up, told me he would pick me up, soon. It was a Friday, so, no school the next day. Even so, my mother told me to be home by 8 pm.
By the time we arrived, Steve's mom was just finishing with cooking, asked Steve to get the plates & utensils out.
He winked at me, then said, "What am I, the kitchen help?"
No reaction from his mom. He got the plates & utensils out, placed them on the dining table.
His mom shot him a look that I was not sure of exactly what it was.
He knew.
He shot back, "If you want me to set the table you'll have to pay me."
It was unclear whether it was sarcasm, an earnest request or what.
His two adorable younger sisters were a bit shy, a little hesitant when he told them, "This is Brenda. Say hello to her." They just looked at me. Both of them had the same beautiful blue eyes as Steve, blonde hair. The younger one had hair that curled into little ringlets.
I asked him if they were always so shy. He smiled.
"Oh, you mean, these little imps? Believe me, once they get over it, you won't be able to shut them up. You've been warned."
It was more like playful banter, less venom. He clearly loved his sisters with the tenderness of a big brother.
I asked him if his father would be joining us.
OOOOHHHH. The air became so thick with tension, it was palpable.
Steve spoke up: "Prune biddy doesn't make paprikash chicken the way he likes it, so, probably not."
I asked him who "prune biddy" was.
His mother spoke up, "That's his disrespectful term for me."
WOW!
I was shocked.
Steve's mother, June, in no way looked like a prune. Actually, appeared very youthful to me, slender. I thought she was beautiful, very striking, memorable. Beautiful blue eyes, the same face shape as Steve, she had an uncommon beauty. Also, from the meals I ate at her home I thought she was a good cook.
I saw the strong resemblance Steve bore to her.
Steve answered, "It's a term of affection Mummy. I could use different pet names but Brenda is here."
Just then, Steve's father stepped up from downstairs. A handsome man in his late 40s. He grumbled about how the chicken dish wasn't authentic, so, he was going out to get something edible.
I introduced myself to him, he smiled slightly, with an accent, he said, "Nice to meet you. Keep an eye on those two while I'm out."
Then, he left.
This was a whole new concept of family life to me. It was a bit surprising, intriguing. Far from what my family was like. Dinner conversation was cordial with Steve continuing to refer to his mother as Prune Biddy & his father as "the old fart".
The Summer
There was a beautiful meadow halfway between my parents' house & the house Steve lived in with his parents & 2 sisters. The ground was softened by a buildup of years of pine needles. It was secluded, far back from the road. We even referred to it as "our meadow". Several times we met there, Steve would bring a blanket. We laid on our backs, figuring out cloud shapes. Making out a bit. Having some deep philosophical conversations. I loved those.
Steve continued to phone me most days after school. If he had what he referred to as "obligations", he always found a way to let me know if it would keep him from calling. Steve was quite succinct in his opinions, actions, beliefs. He defined his religious beliefs as atheist, sometimes agnostic. This greatly disturbed my mother whose own father had the same stance on religion. A few times they sat at the kitchen table in my parents' home, comparing religious views.
My mother tried so hard to change Steve's religious views, which irritated her while it amused him. He seemed to delight in sparring with her
My parents were a bit fearful of letting me spend time with Steve. He was respectful toward them; they saw how happy I was since he and I met. It's a dangerous tightrope walk, being the parents of a teenage girl who believes she is in love with a teenage guy. Although we were just 16, I know I loved him, I know he loved me.
A deep love that was based on trust, respect, intellectual discourse & a lot of make out sessions! I felt like he truly saw me, saw who I was, loved me with all of my imperfections.
On a somewhat carnal note, though he had braces on his teeth, he was a very tender & passionate kisser. The first boy I had ever kissed. The first time, he asked me, first, if he could kiss me which I felt was very respectful. He was a bit surprised, that the kissing was so good, that I seemed so experienced. He asked me how many boys I had kissed before him. I told him he was the first guy. The way I learned to kiss was something I had never told anyone before then. Then, he asked me if I had done much else besides kissing.
I loved it, loved it a lot!
He was shocked when I told him I was a virgin.
Kissed - yes. Nothing beyond that. I couldn't get enough of him kissing me. Yep, I fell hard for him after that first kiss.
It was a strong connection that has stayed in my heart since then.
I loved his strong mindedness, even some of his wildly funny inappropriate "isms". He was different from anyone I had ever known. I feared the approaching end of the school year. I was afraid that my dad would use working in the family garden as an excuse to keep me from seeing Steve. Possibly making me work in the garden to earn the time to spend with Steve. My dad had no problems with letting my brothers run wild, just, not me or my 2 sisters.
When I explained to Steve about my fears, he told me to just lay low so that my dad would relax his grip a bit.
He was right.
When Steve received a bit of money, he asked me to go to the Clarkston Cinema to see a movie he wanted to see. I wanted to see it too!
During the movie we kissed a couple times, nothing heavy. It annoyed two women who looked to be in their 80s or 90s. They complained. The supervisor of the cinema told us that the 2 women constantly complained about everything, told us to act like we had been scolded. Steve wasn't happy about the directive; he thought the 2 women were ridiculous, yet he understood the position the supervisor was in.
At one point in the movie, when music was playing, Steve began softly singing in my ear. It's not like he had a great singing voice it was more of a very sweet gesture. I loved it!
The Slip Up
There was a huge slip up on mine & Steve's part.
We went to a drive-in movie to see, ironically, Ode to Billy Joe. Neither one of us watched the movie. We made out for a while then; we fell asleep in each other's arms. It was as natural as breathing. We woke up several hours later, around 5 am.
Hola schlamola, we KNEW we were in trouble.
When we got to my parents home my dad was furious, wanted to beat me to death with his belt, wanted to kill Steve.
It was extremely frightening to see my dad who had a volatile temper, already, attacking my boyfriend.
My parents grounded me until I was dead.
If I couldn't see Steve, I wanted to die.
I was offered a lighter sentence if I could tell them what movie we saw, who 2 of the actors & 2 of the actresses were, what the movie was about. It was such a lucky happenstance that I had wanted so much to see the movie, had talked to people who had seen it, knew the answers.
My parents relented after 5 days, it felt like a month or more.
One day, after I was no longer grounded, Steve didn't call after school as he had usually done for several weeks. He didn't let me know he wouldn't be able to talk that evening. I was slightly disappointed. I started to dial his number; my mom stopped me. She believed that girls do not call boys.
Steve wasn't at school the next day or for the next week after that. He wasn't on the bus. After a week I was in agony.
He was on the bus one morning after 2 weeks of not hearing from him. At that point I was past missing him, I was angry.
It was an odd feeling to be in limbo, not knowing why or where he had been.
He looked up at me, I walked right past him.
Uh-oh.
When he called on the phone that afternoon, after school, my younger sister made a dash to try to get to the phone before me, I let her. I went outside the house so I didn't have to listen to the conversation.
My sister stepped outside the house to find me, told me that Steve asked her to tell me he was sorry, would call back in an hour. As much as I wanted to talk to him, I ignored his call an hour later.
Trouble In Paradise
A week later, Steve was on the bus in the morning. When I boarded the bus, he stood up, gesturing for me to sit in the seat with him.
I walked right past him.
Two people can play the cold shoulder game. It was childish & rude of me. I knew it was bugging him.
As he often said, "Oh, GOODY!"
I was still a child; I was making a statement by ignoring him as he had hurt me with his silence, so I was going to dish it back to him.
When he phoned that afternoon, I took his call, let him have his say, I ended the call after 5 minutes.
He told me that he had met a really interesting guy, Clark Miles, who advised him to cool the relationship off, told Steve he could do better than me, easily. So, I told Steve to go out looking for someone better then keep going.
Finally, one day at school, I saw Steve eating lunch, in the cafeteria, with Clark & 2 girls.
Well, that rattled me.
Especially since I knew one of the girls didn't care that it was well known that she liked to have lots of sex with many different guys.
It was her scheduled lunch hour, it wasn't Steve's.
I sat down with my back to them, as far across the room as I could. I could still hear them talking & laughing.
It was such torture.
My appetite took a nosedive, I made it to the girl's bathroom before bursting into tears. I knew I was going to be late to my next class, maybe even the rest of the day. I didn't care.
I was sitting in a bathroom stall, sobbing my heart out. Someone entered the lavatory, asked me if I was okay. I didn't answer.
Then, the person knocked on the toilet stall door.
It was Miss Naughty-Pants, herself.
Definitely no one I wanted to see or talk to.
A short time later, the female school counselor came in, knocked on the stall door, asked me to come out. It was so embarrassing! I didn't want anyone to see me like that. Swollen eyes, red from crying, red nose, swollen lips, still softly sobbing,
After the counselor coaxed me out, I had to walk past the gawking students and Steve. I couldn't bring myself to look at his face or his mesmerizing blue eyes. His new guy friend, Clark, smirked, lightly play punched Steve's shoulder.
I heard him say, "See? You don't need her. You can do better."
I talked with the school counselor for a long time. Every time I thought I would be able to stop crying, it would start again. The next day was a Friday, the counselor phoned my mom, convinced her to let me stay home from school the next day.
Teenage girl drama - Oh GOODY!
Steve did call a few times; I didn't want to talk to him. I was too hurt. Unable to understand why he was doing this. On Sunday, I stayed home while everyone except my dad went to church. My dad went fishing.
Home Alone
It was one of the few times I had that I was completely alone at home though I was 16. There was always lots of people around. Both of my parents came from large families. There were always relatives visiting, I had 5 siblings.
I was in my bedroom, reading, when there was a knock at the back door of the house I lived in.
I thought it was odd. It even scared me a bit. Who could it be?
Riiiiiiiiight?
It was Steve.
He had walked to my parents' house, had picked some wildflowers on the way.
He held the flowers out to me, grinning sheepishly. He told me that he knew he had been a jerk, didn't mean to hurt me, didn't have the money to buy flowers. He said that he thought it was what a guy was supposed to do when he had been a jerk.
Here was another Steve-ism.
"Not that I do what I'm supposed to do, so, this shows you I care."
I told him I was the only one at home. He got a lascivious grin, then asked me if I would like to sit outside with him or go for a walk.
Tough choice, ha ha.
I told him I would sit outside with him.
We talked for almost an hour. He tried to kiss me a few times, I wasn't going to completely forgive him that fast. He laughed it off.
Then, the fated moment happened.
Only You Can Prevent Lung Cancer
Steve took a cigarette & a lighter out of his shirtfront pocket. He lit his cigarette, began inhaling deeply. I was so shocked. I asked him when he had started smoking. He grinned, took a drag from the cigarette, exhaled the smoke. Then he told me that he had started smoking on a dare from Clark. He told me that he could quit whenever he wanted to, that it was very relaxing for him, it calmed his nerves. Both of my parents were heavy smokers, when 2 of my brothers began smoking, my parents bought their cigarettes for them.
UGH!
It was something I really hated.
As much as I loved Steve, seeing him smoking was a bit of a damper on my attraction to him.
Steve tried to justify it.
1. I can quit whenever I want to.
3. It's a free country, well not really!
4. I'm not a smoker, I'm a paper sucker.
5. You can try one if you want to.
6. It might help you to relax.
Then, he went the justification route.
"Your parents both smoke. I know your 2 brothers do & your parents buy cigs for them. If you start smoking, they will probably buy cigs for you, then, you can share with me. Since you told me you would do anything for me."
( I would do anything for love, I wouldn't do that!)
I couldn't believe what I was hearing!
I just looked at him and said, "Oh GOODY."
He began laughing so hard, then, he began choking on his cigarette smoke. When he was able to speak, he told me:
"Oh, and about the girls I was sitting with at lunch? I wouldn't touch either of them with my 5-inch pole."
Ew.
An ism I could have done without hearing.
Things were good with me & Steve for a month after that. I hated it that he continued smoking. For me, kissing someone who smokes cigarettes really is like sucking on an ash tray.
His new friend, Clark Miles was a disgusting prick who doled out terrible life advice. At his influence, Steve began habits that are known to contribute to an early death. One time, Clark had a plan to set me up, to manipulate me into saying what he wanted me to say, to cause Steve to care less about me. The effect Clark wanted didn't hold for more than a couple days.
I was babysitting at a neighbor's home. The children were asleep. I called Steve at the time he asked me to call him. Instead of Steve answering it was a girl Clark had referred to as "Princess". I heard him whispering to her to tell her what to say. At one point she thought she had covered the phone enough that I wouldn't hear. Clark, Steve & Princess were there, together. Steve asked her to say certain things, to see what my answer would be. They thought they were fooling me.
They were only fooling themselves.
It was a terribly unkind thing to do, for Steve to allow Clark to do this after telling me how much he loved me.
Steve didn't believe me when I told him that I knew exactly what they were doing. It didn't matter to me if he believed me or not. They thought they were playing me. I was the one playing them.
I'm blonde, definitely not stupid.
It was easy to know exactly what was going on.
Although, in my heart, it feels like he is still around me. Less of a woo-woo feeling. More of a I can't convince my heart that my first love is no longer alive, that I won't see him in the flesh again as I had always hoped I would at some point.
I believed or maybe hoped, he and I would end up together
It was definitely winding down for me. We saw less & less of each other. He didn't call in the afternoons very much.
I had also met a new friend. A really sweet girl who I worked in the school store with. She was one grade lower than me, very religious. She was also very funny, had really sophisticated style in her clothes, shoes, jewelry. She was also engaged to an older guy; she was only 15! The ring she wore had 2-star sapphires; round cabochons set in white gold which began my love for those magical gems.
As Steve & I saw even less of each other, I began spending more time with my own new friend. I rode the school bus to her house one day of each week, went to church with her in the evenings, spent the night at her home, then rode the school bus to my parents' home at the end of the school day, the next day.
Her home life was dramatically different from mine. No one in her parents' home smoked or drank alcohol. I never heard anyone cuss in her home. She had her own bedroom & bathroom.
Not only did I never have my own room, but I had also always shared a bed with my sisters.
When I would go to my friend's home, she would have me choose something to wear, from her closet as we were close to the same size. Her mother would wash the clothes I had been wearing, for me as a kindness. My clothes always reeked of the disgustingly strong odor of cigarette smoke.
A Whole New World
My friend, Cheryl, had such a different life than I did. She had such a beautiful, strong, angelic singing voice & she sang a lot. I loved it.
She taught me how to walk in high heels, she showed me how to put makeup on, she shared her perfume with me. Her mother took her to get her hair permed, cut & styled regularly. I could count on one hand, the number of times that my mother took me to a salon hair appointment. As Cheryl and I drew closer in friendship, Steve & I spent less time on the phone or in person.
Smelling the odor of cigarettes on him was nauseating. I didn't like kissing him near as much as I had, before he started smoking. His new buddy didn't like me so, there was that. I think his buddy was jealous of mine & Steve's strong connection.
Finally, I knew that it was time to break up with Steve. It was kick started when the Senior Prom was announced. I wanted to go, didn't see Steve as my boyfriend, any longer.
When four different guys asked me to go to the prom with them, I said yes to one of them. I would have loved to have gone with Steve instead, he was still my #1 choice.
It seemed to me that he didn't want to go, a lack of funds played a part. Maybe the pressure to have prom night sex would have been too much to resist, with Steve. I could resist others, not Steve.
If I had waited, the tickets might all be sold, getting a dress at the last minute would have been stressful.
A week before the prom, Steve approached me, asked me to go to the prom with him. I was shocked. I still remember the hurt look in his eyes when I told him I already had a prom date. He had invited me too late.
There was more.
It was too sad to be able to write about it. The pain is so sharp just in writing this, it would be unbearable if it were any stronger. Every day, I shed a few tears for Steve. For the aching space in my heart that I feel that only he could fill.
It's been an emo roller coaster, writing & remembering.
I always loved Steve; I know he loved me. After I left my parents' home, we did see each other occasionally. Once in a great while. I was married, was always living far away with the USAF, raising children.
No, I did not cheat on my marriage at all.
I didn't do anything with Steve while I was married to the ex huzz that I wouldn't do with a 5-year-old child
The ex huzz was a very jealous person. I had to hide whatever I had from prior relationships. For our entire marriage, he whined & cried about a girl named Vanessa.
She was nothing more than his prom date.
When he couldn't find her at the prom, he went out to his car where she was getting jiggy with 2 guys. He says she "cheated on him" which is such an exaggeration.
A classic narcissistic trait.
His bruised ego never recovered. Even 20+ years afterward. It was nauseating to listen to. So glad he's married to someone else for him to boo-hoo to about Vanessa.
It made the ex-very angry if I even spoke of another guy, yet he felt it was okay to whine & cry over his prom date.
After the marriage turned sour & abusive, then, I filed, also financed the divorce. I wanted out to preserve my sanity. I didn't contact Steve, his sister contacted me, put me in touch with him.
We talked on the phone a lot. Three to four days per week for 3 - 4 hours per call.
He lived in Georgia; I was living in Colorado at the time. His phone bill was reaching epic amounts. There were a few times when we could have met in person, he just wouldn't do it.
His sister told me that his teeth were a bit jacked. That he's had some very hard things happen. His health was suffering in part due to smoking. She told me that he was very self-conscious that his appearance had suffered due to poor health. He had seen up to date photos of me, he could see that I had taken very good care of my health & appearance. It made him even more fearful that I might not want to be with him as I had before.
I didn't care what he looked like; I wasn't exactly 16 anymore. I'd birthed four babies. As I carefully thought about how much time we spent talking on the phone. The four times when we could have spent real time, in person, which he wouldn't do.
In our phone conversations he spoke of how he loved me still, how he compared every woman he dated or interacted with romantically, to me.
I told him that I still loved him, had loved him since our first kiss.
During that 6-month time period, I hung on his every ism. Every time my phone rang & it was Steve, my heart would start beating so hard. Just as it had done when I was 16.
He had that effect on me.
What I had hoped to do was to hug him to comfort him in hard times. Lay my head against his chest, have more of those deep conversations that I had with him in real life. I had enjoyed them so much. I wanted to see the twinkle in his eyes as he spouted some of the prior isms as well as his new ones. Drink in his natural, personal scent. Nothing else mattered to me, not money or cars or houses or anything else. I just wanted him.
It's a very unhealthy thing to do, to beg someone to be in your life in an in person authentic way. To have to beg someone to let you be a part of their life in a very real, face to face way.
His sister confirmed that he was never married, had not had a girlfriend per se in a few years, I saw that it was probably going to remain all telephone conversations. I gave it 6 months.
As I did tend to focus on one guy at a time when guys asked me out, I had to decline. As Steve & I grew ever closer, though it was all on the phone, going on a date with another guy would have felt like I was cheating on Steve. I had more love; more respect for him than to do that as it would have felt wrong.
Also, he was still a smoker.
I ended it, right or wrong. It felt like the best thing to do. A deeply painful thing to do though it was necessary. I cried over it many times for the next 4 months off & on. He was still the #1 man I wanted.
Being a real, down to Earth, sincere person, having people who are just as sincere or close to it is important to me.
Steve is very sincere, intelligent, rooted for the underdog, always. He never married; he did have one son from a relationship. An adorable boy named Nicholas whom he loved so much.
Being in contact with his sister who is nine years younger than him, is very heart warming. She's the one who told me of his passing. I cried off and on though mostly on, for a few days afterward. As of June 18, the tears still start up when I think I'll be okay.
Then, I decided to write a blog entry, dedicated to him. He is a multi-faceted, one-of-a-kind person. Very self-aware, sometimes he was his own worst enemy. He had so many brilliant ideas if he could have gotten out of his own way.
He was very stubborn at times, just like me.
He "loaned" a book to me, during the time he and I were dating. The Cosmos by Carl Sagan. I have read it over & over, I still have it. It's a prized possession for me.
The love letters he wrote to me are tucked inside the dust jacket of the book.
During the time he and I were dating, at 16, after I wrote a poem to him, then it was published in The Clarkston News. He asked me who it was about.
He was utterly gobsmacked that it was to him.
Edit:
I found the poem that had been published.
Written for Steve Szasz - March 27, 1977
You
If I were a dish of ice cream
I'd melt right in your hand
If I were a flower
I would grow all over your land
If you were a tree
You would shade me from the sun
If you were a star
You'd shine on me til night was done
If you were a sweater
You'd keep me oh so warm
If you were an umbrella
You'd shelter me from every storm
I am not a flower you're not a star
Or even a tall oak tree
We can shelter each other
Because that's love, baby
He got his adorable, classic Steve "You gotta be sh**ting me" look.
Then, tears welled up in his eyes. A couple tears trickled down his face. He asked me what I saw in him. I held up the poem in the newspaper clipping, it said it all.
I told him "Read it & weep."
We both laughed until we had to stop from the gut pain. Then, he told me that I was definitely wife material. Either that or the most deluded 16-year-old on the planet.
He told me that he didn't think he could ever write something as good as that. I told him he didn't have to. Then I told him that I liked his handwriting & if he wanted to, to write letters to me. He gave me his signature look, nodded his head softly.
I was glad that he wrote those letters. For a guy who swore he would never marry, he wrote about how he was excited to have me pick out my engagement & wedding ring. He wrote about what we would be doing after we were married, the fun times we'd have.
He never mentioned children.
When I asked him about it, whew, gob smacked in a bad way. He asked me if he didn't want children if it would be a deal breaker for me.
In truth, I wasn't sure.
Then he relented a bit, asked me if I wanted to discuss it. So, we did.
Telling him my fear of dying as a virgin was almost as terrifying as getting so fat with a big baby belly that he might not still love me.
I was being very honest, very vulnerable with him. As he was being the same way with me.
"If we run out of love we will just make more."
Years later, after the divorce, Steve & I were briefly in contact, I offered to send the book back to him. He told me to keep the book. He did remember that his mother had given me the few of his baby pictures there were, plus some other meaningful items. His mother was sure that I was going to be her daughter in law. He was very courteous when he asked if I could please send those items to him if I still had them. I told him OF COURSE I STILL HAD THEM!
Hopefully the knowledge that I had held onto those precious mementos for so long showed him how much I felt for him.
I hesitate to get the book out & re-read the love letters he wrote to me. It's still too much emotional pain for me to bear, to read such lovely words of what might have been. Something I wanted so much.
He was so loveable to me, the intensity of how deeply I had always loved him may have been hard for him to understand.
People who have difficulty loving themselves often wonder why or how others can care so deeply about them as a person. Not for their looks, not for money, not for material possessions they had, the home they lived in or the car they drove.
Just pure love for him for all that he was. Soul to soul.
His birthday was a short amount of time away. I tucked his photos & other mementos he asked for, plus a few birthday gifts for him in the package together. Steve was very passionate about Pepsi being so much better than Coke, that only imbeciles drank Coke. I bought a T Shirt with the Pepsi logo on it. The shirt was the same shade of blue as his eyes.
He was shocked that I remembered his stance on Pepsi or Coke.
Baby, I remembered nearly everything!
Blogging is so therapeutic for me.
It's helping.
Hopefully people who read this will have a few laughs, smiles, maybe even a few tears.
To have a rainbow there must often be rain, first.
This is my tribute, also my I'll see you soon to Steve because good bye just seems so final. You are so loved & missed more than you could ever realize by so many people whose lives you touched.
These photos were taken of myself & also Steve around the same time frame.
A bit of a back story. 3 weeks before my graduation from USAF BMT I saw him. Steve! It was embarrassing that I totally forgot where I was, called out his name. He got in trouble; I got in trouble. Then, when I had graduated from BMT, was finally allowed some freedom! I went to the Lackland AFB base library. There was Steve, sitting on the steps, smoking a doobie!
He was nearly squinty eyed; he was so high.
He said some really awful things to me.
Told me that he was so fu*ked up, told me that I was also so very fu*ked up & I just didn't know it, yet.
I had to hide out in the ladies' room for a long time. Reduced to tears, sobs. He could still cause a strong reaction in me.
Maybe it was payback for causing him so much trouble when I saw him at Lackland AFB the first time. If so, then, I believe I deserved it.
