JASMINE

The story of my life and that of so many other women has been told many times before; so much so that if it were a song and I heard it one more time, I would claw my eyeballs out. Figuratively speaking of course, but that is to say I'm just tired of being tired. I'm thirty-two years old and it makes me sick to my stomach to find myself pretty much in the same predicament as I was in over fifteen years ago, or maybe it just seem that way. Well, I suppose I should start from the beginning so you can grasp the full understanding of what I'm talking about.

My mother and father were never married but they lived together until I was three. After the break-up, my mother and I moved to Norfolk, Virginia. That's where it all began. That was the city in which my journey began to take shape. Everything started innocently enough. Sitting in my eleventh grade science class, a note was passed from the back of the class and placed on my desk. It's embarrassing to say now, but when I turned around and identified who had passed the note, I knew at that moment that he was going to get into my panties. Derrick Campbell was his name, and although we had passed each other hundreds of times in the hall, we had never spoken a direct word to each other. He was sexy as hell, maybe a tad bit over six feet tall. His bluish-gray eyes looked as though they had been painted on. His body was cut perfectly for his frame and his smile could only be described as sweet. I had already been sucked in, but it was his hair that sealed the deal. He had that natural, fine hair that was a mixture of curls and waves and made me want to run my hands through it. I had always noticed him and he had already had a melting effect on me, albeit in the form of a fantasy.

I never in my craziest dreams thought he would ever notice me. I mean, why would he? I was average height and I wore those old-style braces that resembled a bicycle chain. My feet were oversized for someone with my petite frame, and my hair was unmanageable most of the time. It always seemed that I could never do anything with it. I had a permanent scar across the bridge of my nose from running into a door in the dark when I was twelve. I suppose if I were forced to point out a positive attribute about myself, it would have been that I had a set of cute dimples that made their presence known whenever I smiled. I didn't think I was anything special, just ordinary, the way I saw it. I seemed always to get compliments though, and if I let my mother tell it, Halle Berry didn't have anything on me. There's nothing like a mother's love, right? While walking up the hall after science class that day, Derrick yelled out to me. Recognizing his voice and realizing he was referring to me made my heart skip a beat.

It was important for me to appear confident. I did not want to show how excited I was that he had chosen to talk to me.

"Hey Slim, I just wanted to ask if it would be okay if I walked you to your next class," he said. He didn't know it, but I despised being called "slim." I wanted to say something to him, but I didn't because I was already craving how awesome it felt that he had chosen to talk me. That was a very pivotal point in my life, but I think this part of my story would be best served if we revisited it later. Don't worry, I promise I'll come back to it.

As time went on, our relationship began to grow and Derrick asked me to be his girlfriend. At first I was just flattered, but as time passed, I ended up falling head over heels for him. I had turned the corner of just thinking he was cute. In just a short time my feelings for him were like something I had never felt before. I hadn't ever even dreamed that I could attract the attention of someone like Derrick. I mean, here was this hot, gorgeous, popular, athletic guy and he had chosen me as his girl.

The mere thought of that happening to me catapulted my self-esteem into an unfamiliar stratosphere. I didn't just like him any longer, I had invested all that I was into him. My emotions were on a cloud I didn't know existed and my tender, sweet loving spirit was on a collision course with first love. I was like an open book. I wore everything about myself and all that I felt about Derrick on my sleeve. I thought it was important to let him know how I felt. I entrusted in him to do the right thing and to my pleasurable amazement he had gotten off to a good start by spoiling me at every turn. He left romantic notes in my locker. He wrote me poems that made me tingle inside. He flattered me with compliments every day. I was floating amongst the clouds and I wasn't ashamed to admit that it was all because of Derrick.

The way I felt about him was almost indescribable. It was one of those feelings that, even though you know what it feels like, you have a hard time explaining it. I was a little more than half way through my eleventh-grade year, and I was proud to tell anyone who would listen that I was in love. I was barely sixteen years old and I was talking about love like I really knew what it was. To be honest, my knowledge on the topic was based solely on the way I felt about Derrick and the way he made me feel.

I realize how simple that sounds but it was more than enough for me at the time. I was on the ride of my young life and all I had to bring along was my loving heart and sweet disposition. The best part was that it didn't cost a thing. It was as free as the flowing spirit that ran through me. I guess we were about four months into our relationship when Derrick approached me with a proposition that would take us to where I knew we would end up the first day we officially met. He was cute in the way he asked, nervous but cute. In fact, when the words came out his mouth I could hear the cracking in his voice. I wanted to hear him ask me again.

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