#3, Kurt.

Kurt was one of the loves of my life. I was fifteen and he was twenty-five, i think. Much older than me, but we were kindred spirits. He was the first person i ever thought of as a "soul mate". Light blue eyes and raggedy blonde hair. Torn up jeans and flannels. In a band, i think. He drove an automatic minivan, and would always drive with his left foot up on the seat, completely relaxed. Once we listened to a Cantonese radio station on the way to Safeway to buy beer, because he swore to me that after a while we would begin to understand it, that that was how language worked. And you know what? After a while we did.
Our whole relationship was kinda like that, actually. We had a lot between us that was unspoken. We shared many many great silences together; whole afternoons would pass by without either one of us saying much. We both liked Smarties and listening to Nirvana. Once he wrote a song about me on the spot, sitting in the sunshine on the front steps of my mom's house. He played it on acoustic guitar and i think someone else was there. Normally that would have embarrassed me, but it made me feel so good instead. It was weird to be around someone and not feel shy. That was the greatest gift he ever gave me.
One night at the end of that summer, he kissed me under a flagpole. We were both drunk and it was awkward; there was not much feeling in that kiss, and i think that started the end of it all. He probably realized that i was too young, and i probably realized that it would never happen. I'm pretty sure he had slept with my older sister and some of her friends, anyway.
We drifted apart rapidly after that. Then i found out he was very mixed up with crack, and not doing good at all. This was bad news. The last thing i have heard about him, though, was that he got married, became a Christian, had a baby, and started to play in a band again. I can't say that this doesn't hurt my heart sometimes. But good for you, Kurt.