You were my first gentleman
The first to sweep me off my feet
You were the first man to ask me on a legitimate date
or want to meet each other’s families
You were the first man I could imagine bringing home
for Thanksgiving Dinner, or going away with
You were the first time I didn’t feel embarrassed
No, I was entirely comfortable in my own skin
with your teasing sensitivity all over my own skin
You were the first man I wanted to lay myself bare for,
though I could only manage that in the most obvious of ways.
You were the first man I welcomed wholly into my space,
the first man I wanted to clear out a drawer for.
You were the first man to make me feel treasured.
You made me believe in love after I’d long-forgotten how.
I was the first woman to try to share her life with you,
the first to always want you around.
I was the first woman you thought you could make happy.
Rife with raw emotion, I was the first woman
to make your life complicated.
I was the first woman you treated like a Queen.
I was the first to show you there difference between
love as something you do and love as something you’re in,
for you could only manage the former (and do it spectacularly).
I may have been the first woman to stress you out
or to make you ask yourself really difficult questions.
I was the first woman you shared a bed with, and in that
I hope I’m not the first woman you compromised yourself for.
We were each other’s first serious relationship,
and firsts are a series of trial and error.
We wondered more about what the other person wanted
or expected than we paid attention to ourselves.
We killed a hundred conversations with kisses.
We said things we weren’t ready for.
We are each teacher and student, villain and victim,
the player and the played. Somewhere between
lust and love, we were each other’s first adventure.
Despite inexperience, we treated each other well
We gave to each other as well as we could.
Now it’s time to give back to ourselves.