"TC" was my first big crush. I'd fancied Gawaine at school when I was 15 - he had pale skin, dark hair, puppy dog eyes and possessed the best bum in Christendom - but despite being in all my classes I considered him way too cool/ beautiful to actually talk to. During sixth-form I was going through a majorly self-repressive phase and can't remember liking anyone specific.
But then at university TC appeared. TC is half-French and half-Danish. He was studying law, the same as I. He was the captain of the college water polo team. He was about 5'8 or 5'9, had dirty blond hair, loved dogs, was a vegetarian and a Europhile. His eyes, eyebrows and jaw line put him in the movie star category of looks, no exaggeration. Think River Pheonix meets a young Tom Cruise. He had a slight doziness about him (gawd I hope he doesn't read this :s) and the most ridiculously endearing American accent from his time in Washington as a kid. He invented the word "Twink".
I fancied TC so much it hurt. I was only out to very close friends but after about 18 months of complete torment I went round, knocked on his door, and asked him if I could talk to him. I told him how I felt. He listened to it all and apologised "I'm so sorry" he said a couple of times - he just wasn't gay. He took out a photo album with his dog and asked me to stay for a coffee and look at them. I melted even further. How could the bastard be SO NICE on top of everything?
The next few months became steadily worse: TC became an actual friend rather than an object of lust from afar. He invited me to his birthday picnic on the Backs with a small group of his closest pals (all girls, I recall). We went down to London together. He answered his door a couple of times dressed only with a towel wrapped round his waist. I went on to law school, but attended his graduation. Momma TC was there: a stunning, slender chic, French woman with an amaze Chanel handbag. It was obvious where TC had got his looks and style from.
FAST FORWARD some ten years later. I'd just split up with my boyfriend of 5 years. It must have been 2002. I was at my fave gay hangout, the Shadow Lounge in Soho, and who is there, but TC. I nearly vomited. I actually had to run and hide in the loos to compose myself. I went back: yup, it was him. No one looks like TC. At nearly 30 he was as beautiful as at 20. I went up and said hello: "Peeeder! [remember the slightly dumb but massively endearing American accent]" he said... "I guess I was gay after all!" Cue spontaneous human internal combustion.
TC told me he'd been flattered, interested, but scared when I had come round to see him. I told him what an absurd crush I'd had on him: how much bike rides back to college and lunches together had meant to me. He said I looked just the same as I had then, and how great it was to see me. It was all agony, mixed with "oh my god, but now what?!". Then he introduced me to his boyfriend who was also there with him listening to the whole thing.
 |
| TC |
TC is 38 today. I know the firm he's working at. First loves are the worst, especially if they are unrequited. I've not been back in touch: I'm sure I'd make a total arse of myself and he's probably still with the boyfriend, all nicely civil partnered - with a dog. I've still got a couple of little handwritten notes he wrote me: I *do* have enough dignity not to post them though, don't worry.
I'm such a soft old bastard I've actually got a bit teary writing this. Leave a comment, don't leave me thinking I'm the only tragic soul who still remembers their first love?
No comments:
Post a Comment