We met at our job, a grocery store called Milgram's in Kansas City. I was a checker, he was a "produce ed." "Produce ed," according to B.T., was the proper name for the produce guy at the grocery store.

Anyway, we were in high school. I was a senior at an all-girl private school, he was a junior at a co-ed private school. I didn't know him and took no notice of him at first--he hung out with this guy named Nick, a bad sacker who was always asking for, and getting into trouble. Once Nick was inevitably fired from Milgram's, B.T. was on his own. Over the next few months, we would exchange a few innocent words in passing, but nothing special. One day as I walked by him while he was stocking bananas on an end-cap, I said something baiting and flirtatious, and B.T. bit--hook, line, and sinker. He said something sassy right back, and that was it. In typical high school fashion, we started throwing bananas at each other or some such thing to show we liked each other. Soon we were being yelled at my the manager. And so began our relationship.

We were crazy in love. We were young, full of racing hormones, and equipped with cars and drivers licenses. Every moment we were not in school we were together, usually hanging out or making out. Sometimes getting into trouble. It was pretty great.

B.T. and I were both virgins when we met. We lost our virginity to each other. It was not very beautiful. In fact (without getting too graphic) it was messy, uncomfortable, and weird. But we treated each other as tenderly as possible, and it was okay. And of course, we were soon having sex like rabbits. It wasn't rare for us to have sex at least once a day, mostly at his house. Even when his mom accidentally walked in on us (oh the horror), it didn't stop us. His parents were good people and made sure that B.T. was using protection, but other than that, they stayed out of it. I guess his mom and stepdad figured they'd rather know that their son was at home in his room gettin' it on with a nice Catholic girl, rather than out doing lord-knows-what who-knows-where. B.T. was a good boy--he never drank, he never smoked, he never did drugs. He got good grades and he was a smart kid. I did okay too, but I was a little more interested in getting into trouble than he was. Near the end of the school year, there was a huge party at a house right around the corner from B.T.'s. I got permission to "stay over at my friend's house" so I could party and get drunk, and boy howdy, I sure did! But B.T., he just hung out for awhile, kept an eye on me, made sure that I was safely passed out in a bed, and went home to his own. We had fun together. He treated me so well, and I loved him totally.

Graduation time came. I graduated from high school, while he was to become a senior. After falling in love with B.T., I was sure it would last (forever??) and decided to change my college plans. Originally I was going to go to a university located two hours from K.C. and study journalism, but I just couldn't stand the thought of being away from him, so I switched to a dinky community college near my parents' house. Stupid, stupid mistake, because within 3 months of making this decision, we broke up.

Basically, it just fizzled. Mostly, it fizzled on his end, and he was still too young and unable to express his emotions to work on it or fix it. I was crushed. Turns out he was too. We were both hurt and couldn't figure out how to make it okay.

We went about our lives. Because we were living in K.C. and had many of the same friends, it was nearly impossible not to hear about or run into each other. On the rebound, I became embroiled in a horrible, emotionally abusive relationship. B.T. heard about it and tried to tell me that the guy was trouble. The abusive guy tried to tell me that B.T. was the one with problems, to turn me against him. Meanwhile, B.T. graduated from high school, moved out of his parents' house, and moved in with a bunch of young guys who did nothing but drink, smoke pot, and do any other drugs that came their way. This time, B.T. got involved.

Over the next few years I got rid of the abusive guy and went my own way. B.T. found himself getting more involved with drugs. First pot, then other stuff, and then combinations of things, more and more out-of-control, until he was fired for doing drugs while working. During this time, B.T. called me a few times in the wee hours of the morning, talking about how he was tripping on mushrooms and taking nitrous at the same time and how amazing it was. I could tell that he was just trying to connect with reality. I was sad for him.

The end came when drug-induced paranoia made him believe that he was in trouble with the police. He called his parents and asked for help. They came and cleaned up his place, and took B.T. to their new home in Minnesota. They put him in rehab. He really wanted to clean up, and he did. I came to visit him in Minnesota and we had a wonderful time. It really felt like old times. I was so glad that he had gotten himself out of drugs. When I left him to go back to K.C., he had plans to get his own place and go to college. He seemed to be serious about it, and I wished him the very, very best.

And you know? I haven't seen him since. We kept in touch for a little while, but eventually lost contact. I have often wondered how he's doing, if his plans came to fruition.

I hope he is as happy in his life as I am. I would like to think he is.