The Puppy Love that we've all been through... and the kind our children will too.

We have all been there. Fallen in "puppy" love. You know what puppy love I'm talking about, right. The kind where you're barely old enough to be called a teenager because you just graduated from a training bra a couple months prior. The kind where you have a picture of him with a large red heart around his face in your locker, not to mention the ten others stashed in your agenda book. All while blushing at the site of his mighty good looks. Each and every time. You know the kind where you run to your mom's room at night and profess your love to her, for him. And you SWEAR you are going to get married. No matter what she says.

That's the puppy love I'm talking about.

So children, my dear children, when you're older and somewhat wiser, please read this carefully as I will tell you how your puppy love will not be your first real love {unless you are like your grandparents who have dated since 7th grade}, because yours truly has been there, done that, and screamed at the top of her lungs, THIS IS THE REAL DEAL.

I'm here to tell you, it's not.

Let me take you back when... yours truly, just graduated from a training bra {I apologize if I have a son who is somewhat embarrassed at the thought of his mother in a training bra. Or any bra for that matter}.

You see, I had just finished 7th grade and I would, in a few short months, be at the top of the school. The big 8th grader. The before high school year. The big deal.

And this particular summer my parents had planned a big family trip to Hilton Head island, and I was so excited I made my dad take me shopping. My poor dad.

I was determined to get my very first bikini {you see what I mean... poor dad}. And I remember the day like it was just yesterday.

I found one at Macy's that was bright yellow. String. And gave me some.... va-va-vooom {Okay, who am I kidding.. there was no va-va-voom to be had}.

I packed it in my suitcase and thought about it the whole drive down to South Carolina. I just couldn't wait to put it on and hit the sand on the beach. I was going to be like the big girls you know.

And the very next day, Sunday, I did just that.

Within hours of being at the beach, I spotted a boy. A tall, handsome, scrawny little boy that had a movie star smile. Insert blushing teeny-bop.

He eyed me too. Must have been the little yellow bikini. IT WAS the yellow string bikini. I was certain. And for the next couple of hours we would glance at each other and flirt from afar.

I had already, at this point, made up my mind. I was in L-O-V-E. Yes, the mind and heart of a 12 year old. I had butterflies, I was certain this was the "real deal."And I hadn't even spoken to him.

And as I am packing up to head back to the condo, his friend and him come up to me. And they do the whole, we're "15 or 16" deal. Older kids {turns out they were my age}. And the whole, "want to go to the pool" and "nice bathing suit." Pick up lines I believe?

MELT. I knew it... he DOES love my suit. Insert more gushing from the teeny bop.

So we ended up spending the next two days, him, me, and his friend at the pool. At the beach. Eating lunch together. Back to the pool. Back to the beach.

And then when he was supposed to go back home and decided to stay a couple weeks longer with his grandmother "just so he could hang out with me more" well... that is it. He could have proposed right there and then, and I would have said yes.

The hand holding began, and I was just the puppiest of all in love.

And on my last day, I cried my little eyes out, carved a big heart in the closet of my room {in the condo that was not ours} with our initials, and then wrote an entry in the journal that the owners have for guests...

"Thank you for having us here. This has been the best time of my life. I met a boy, and I think I'm in love.

Thanks to my little yellow bikini."

-Becky, Indiana 7/12/2000

Now, lets talk about the after thought. You would think that I met a boy on the beach for a week, innocent flirting, and once the vacation was over... then that was that.

Oh no.

Hello, princess love stories don't end like that right?

No. Lets just say said boy sent me a mushy gushy pre-teen, I barely have hair under my arm pits, email, that said something around the lines of..." I had the best week ever, and I can't stop thinking about you."

And there went my heart. For the second time. Jumping to the moon and back. Over and over again.

And so the for the next two years. Gulp. Yes. You read that right. Two years. We emailed. We chatted. We talked on the phone daily. We were... in puppy love. The poodle canoodle kind of puppy love.

And yes, I do recall being that girl running to my mom, jumping on her bed, and proclaiming that I was going to marry him. You shall ask her yourself.

So how do we put an end to this love story? Why you bring them back together.

I told him when my family was vacationing back there... gave him the dates... and wa-la... almost two years to the date... we meet back again at the very same beach we met.

Insert fireworks.

Except this time? Wasn't exactly the whole "princess and prince fairytale" that I had envisioned in my head.

In fact, it was the complete opposite. So much so, that I left that week realizing that... well... he's not going to be my husband after all.

The love story?

Ended.

My first puppy love story. Just like that. Over.

I'm pretty sure I cried some unhappy pitiful sobbing tears. Pretty sure. And I'm pretty sure I said at one point or another that my life was over now that I couldn't have my prince. Pretty sure. And I'm pretty sure that I told my mom to "get out" when she tried to explain to me that..."honey... there are more fish in the sea."

Pretty sure.

And you know what? She was right.

Because before I found MY one fish... I had to go through plenty others.

So children, when I tell you that I've been there... trust me when I say... I have.
And when I say that he/she is probably not "the one"... trust me... I know.
And when you have your heartbroken and you cry your eyes out?....
Trust me when I say...


There are plenty more fish in the sea.