High Lonesome Moan

Today I went on Facebook and read a status update from a friend back in Seattle. He stated that he wanted to fall in love again. I wanted to respond, but didn't know how. So, I just wrote a comment: Yeah...
Falling in love. It sounds so easy. I guess it is, in a way. Someone comes into your life and - through various encounters - you feel alive and invincible; life becomes magical and the happiness you experience is unlike anything the world has shown you. I thought about love: falling in love, staying in love, first love, broken hearts and all the other things I associated with that powerful emotion that can bring the greatest joy and, at the same time, completely destroy.
Love - like the porn industry - has become a business. Maybe it always has been. People seem to think that finding love in the realms of their imaginative creations will bring them bliss beyond human experience. If you read singles ads you see that people find themselves describing the perfect person that will change their life or bring something to their life or just make them happy. Like American cheese slices, it seems processed. I understand everyone having a type, but what about keeping your heart open to the possibility of finding someone who will turn your world into a magical place without prerequisites? And what about those whose hearts are so cold, hidden or even damaged to the point that their emotions - or lack of - come from a recipe card on how life and relationships work?
I have been in love, and the three times I really fell in love with someone it came out of nowhere. It was as if I was walking along and lightening struck. BOOM!!! Of course, two of those times were with guys who seemed to have so many walls around their hearts that it was impossible to even make a crack to get in. Anyway, my thoughts about love took me back to the first guy I ever fell in love with back in high school. And this is where I will tell you a story...
I had first met Charles when my family moved from Washington, D.C. to Bladenboro, North Carolina. I was admitted to Spaulding-Monroe Middle School in the 8th grade and thought nothing of him. I was the new and weird kid who didn't have any interest in sports. Charles was just another black guy in school who sat somewhere in the back of the class in homeroom.  After the end of the school year, I didn't think of or seemed to see much of Charles. 
It wasn't until the middle of 10th grade in World History class that I encountered Charles again.
I didn't know it, but Charles sat two seats back and across from me. One day when Mrs. Ellis was out of the room and everyone else was engaged in conversation, I sat at my desk reading a book when Charles asked me if I was pregnant. I looked back at him - dark and grinning - and shook my head in disgust. However, he persisted. They were irritating little jokes and I ignored him most of the time. I thought he was just being stupid and had nothing better to do than to ask dumb questions about impossible biological situations. 
One night I was at home in my room either reading, writing or doing some homework. One of my sisters told me I had a phone call, which was shocking because I never got phone calls. "Who is it?" I asked.
"Charles Weathers," she said.
I was confused. First, I didn't get phone calls. Second, why would Charles be calling me? Third, how did he get our number?  I got on the phone and Charles said that he had forgotten about our homework assignment and was wondering if I could give it to him. I passed on the information, said goodbye and went back to my room confused. And, it seems, from that moment on Charles and I...well, I'm not sure. We started to talk to each other. We shared a locker. We took turns buying snacks during the early break. We joked around. He bought a twelve-pack thing of gum and put it in our locker for us to share. And I fell in love for the first time. It was...amazing!
Of course, being gay I had to keep my feelings to myself. I could not share the happiness I felt. And the thing about it all was that I never really knew how Charles felt.
The next year, we were in United States History class together. Charles was driving to school and my parents would let me drive on occaision. Charles and I would sometimes be the first students at school and would talk in the hall or in the library. Someone had opened a hangout in town and one day me and my buddies went there after school. Charles was there. I grabbed a Pepsi and watched him play pool. Once his game was over, he asked me to play. I told him that I didn't know how. He smiled, grabbed a cue stick and taught me how to play pool. After that sad game, we chatted before he left.
I didn't get much of a chance to see Charles outside of school, but I was still in love. I was happy when the school year started again so that I could see him again. During the summers, I was too busy working in tobacco fields yet I still thought about him.  The next year, Charles and I were in an art class together...and that's where everything started to change. First, enter a girl named Loretta who would always speak to Charles - flirting and upfront about it. I watched Charles' reaction...indifferent and uninterested. Loretta was persistent, however it never went anywhere. Loretta got pregnant soon after and dropped out of school.
Then, one night at home I was in my room. I was restless and irritated. I could not sit still. Something was bugging the shit out of me. When I went to bed, I had a dream about Charles fucking some girl. I couldn't sleep...the images were hurting me. The next day, Charles and I met up and I asked him about his evening. He gave me the details of having sex with a girl from the next town over. I listened to him brag about fucking some girl and my heart was falling to pieces. A few months had gone by and Charles was missing a lot of school. It was his best friend Harvey who told me the story: Charles had gotten a girl pregnant and was looking for work in order to support the baby. That left me pretty much a mess. The last I heard of Charles was after he had dropped out of school and Harvey told me that he joined the Army.
I thought about Charles all of these years off and on. I think I still have a picture of him somewhere...dark and beautiful! And I smile when I do think of him. I was in love and I'm not sure where his interest in me came from. Maybe he was gay and I caught his eye one day. Maybe he just found me interesting and formed a friendship. I don't know what it was. I just knew that one day I was minding my own business and, out of nowhere, Charles caught my attention and I fell in love with him. 
It's true when they say you never forget your first love. And I often wonder if Charles ever thinks of me?