My first boyfriend's name was Ian. We dated for about three weeks. I was 15, he was 17. He could drive a car and he loved Depeche Mode. I went to a private Jewish day school. He attended a public school near my house. He was pretty cute. We met at a party (Elisa's sweet 16). He was not invited but crashed for some dancing.
After a few strategic phone calls to common friends, things eventually fell into place. We didn't get to spend much time together alone b/c my parents were very strict and not thrilled about me hanging out with an older guy who could drive and had access to a car.
I remember I was in the play that year, I played a wanky British-accented secretary who kept interrupting to serve The Tea, Sir. I can't even remember the name of the play. It was a murder mystery. Maybe Agatha Christie?
I secretly got a ride home with him from the play that night and when my folks found out, they were less then thrilled. Needless to say their further restrictions on our alone time led to a quick breakup.
I ran into him years later when I was in University. It was at Sky Bar in Montreal's Gay Ghetto. I was working the door, helping some friends with a Concordia G&L event. It was my first time there. He walked in and shock registered on both of our faces. He was flustered. He was also gay (and wearing overalls - ew). He stammered something about how he had he always liked me.