The year: 1982.
I was 11 and in the 6th grade.
This was where my first real “relationship” occurred.
It happened so simply. A note was passed:
“Do you like me? Circle YES or NO.”

That was it. I officially had a “boyfriend.”
His name was Tracy and he was the mayor’s son (the mayor of a town with the population of about 85 … OK, maybe a few more … 105).
Going “steady” was equivalent to hanging out on the playground and the occasional phone call.
We had talked on the phone a few times about what records we had and if I would be going to the local fais-do-do (Cajun dance) held in the parking lot of the Catholic church in town (the only church) and what we liked to eat at the drive-in across from his house.
We were in middle school band, which included the only instrument of the recorder. You can imagine how fascinating that concert was.
But, he was already a musician … well, a drummer. Does that count? (that was a joke)
I still remember the day of the school talent show where he played with one other classmate … a guitar and drum version of Credence Clearwater Revival’s, “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”. That was interesting. The guitar player got frustrated with all his mistakes and actually stopped playing. Tracy got mad and told him to keep going. I think there was actual crying that followed.
Tracy was the first boy to give me a gift. It was Christmas and he handed me a small wrapped box. It was a gold heart locket necklace. I, of course, told him I couldn’t accept it (I was classy even back then). It was too much. But, kept it anyway.
I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen … something like this.
I treasured it …
UNTIL,
that nice boy, Tracy, turned on me.
He had the audacity to break up with me not long after that necklace had been given. It may have even been in the same week.
He approached me on the playground.
He asked if he could have the locket back.
I asked why.
His answer would astound me.
He said it was to give to some other girl in the class who I don’t remember the name of.
I, without skipping a beat, said, “You want your necklace back?”
Then, I ripped the necklace from my neck, breaking it, and with it in hand, said, “Here’s your necklace.” And, then threw it at him, turned my back and walked away.
I think he did end up giving it to that girl, and they may have “gone steady” for a few weeks before that was over.
This is where it all started.
From then on, most of my break-ups looked like this (Warning: “the “A**” word is used in the proper context, referring to a donkey, but it is still said.”) :
So, I must take this time to say I’m sorry to a few … Sorry for …
throwing any of the gifts you had given me in your face,
throwing those punches that one time,
kicking that door in,
cutting your face out of all pictures and then burning them,
and the, oh so cliche’, drink in the face.
(Don’t worry. These experiences were before Beau … actually before Christ.)
I have grown up … somewhat.