Y’all, let me tell you about my first love when I was just 16. It’s a story I’ll never forget — and one of the biggest life lessons I’ve ever learned.
A Fateful Encounter
At the time, I was 16, about to turn 17, in the 10th grade. I was still a vrgn and had never been in a real relationship. Then I met him — an 11th-grade boy, just one year older than me.
He was different, y’all. Not like the thugs I’d see around the schools in Chicago. He had just moved in with his dad from California because his mom was a traveling nurse and couldn’t care for him full-time.
( If you enjoyed this post and want to try the ingredients and tools that helped shape the Bloveslife brand, feel free to check them out below! Every view or purchase you make is a way of supporting Blove’s passion and dedication to the community.
- 7.5 Quart Cast Iron Dutch Oven: https://amzn.to/4dcUqms
- Lodge Pre-seasoned Cast Iron Skillet: https://amzn.to/3TyyMSA
- Bamboo Seasonings Box with Mini Spoon: https://amzn.to/4dfHzA6 )
The “Pretty Boy” from Cali
I used to call him the “pretty boy” — he always took care of himself. Nails trimmed, clothes ironed to perfection, hair always fresh and styled with gel, and he smelled so good. He was nothing like the rough boys around my neighborhood.
At first, I heard he liked me through some girls at school. They’d say, “Hey, that boy’s been asking who you are,” and “He’s got a thing for you.” So we started talking, hanging out...
The Sweetest Days
Now listen, I’ve always been the kind to take things slow, y’all. We’d walk to his house, I met his dad — everything felt easy, pure. We’d talk, walk, and eventually shared our first kiss.
It took eight months before I decided to “go all the way” with him.
The Night I Lied to Mama
Y’all, I remember staying at his house really late one night — like 11 or 12 a.m. This was before we had cell phones. My mama was sitting at home, worried sick, wondering where I was. Her rule was that I had to be on our block when the streetlights came on, especially since I was only 16.
When I got home, she asked, “Where were you?” I lied: “I was with Aunt Betty — she took me out, we talked and did some shopping.” Mama believed me and said, “Oh, okay.”
But baby, let me tell you what happened next. Months later, Mama ran into Aunt Betty and said, “Thank you for taking my daughter out that night.” And Aunt Betty said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I haven’t seen her.”
OMG! When Mama got home, I knew I was gonna get wh*pped. But thank God months had passed, and she wasn’t too mad anymore.
My First Time and Prom Night
My first time… well, y’all, let me be real — it wasn’t comfortable. He was gentle, but for a young girl, it just wasn’t a great experience.
We went to prom together — his prom. I still have pictures from that night. But after prom, he had to move back to California.
Long Distance Love & The Tattoo
Even though we were apart, we stayed in touch. He loved me so much that one day, he showed up at school with a new tattoo. It was a heart with the letter “B” — for my name.
I was shocked: “What is that?”
He said, “So I can keep you with me always, because I love you.”
I told him, “I’m not ready for something like that. I’m too young.”
But he kept pushing: “Just get one where your mama can’t see it.”
The Worst Decision of My Life
Y’all, this was hands down the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I agreed to get a tattoo.
But listen — this wasn’t a professional studio. This was a tattoo done at somebody’s house in the g*hetto, y’all. I’m serious — it was straight up a jailhouse-style tattoo.
This girl used a sewing needle — yep, a sewing needle — not a tattoo machine. She heated it up to “sterilize” it, sprayed some alcohol, and started freehand drawing. No stencil. No safety.
When I say I cried, y’all, I mean I cried like someone was trying to kll me. I cried with snot and tears running down my face. It was the first and last tattoo I ever got.
Hiding the Secret
Afterwards, I had to hide it from Mama. Y’all wanna know how? I used tape. Yep — I taped over the tattoo for months.
Even in the summer, I had tape over it. It was too big for just one piece, so I used several strips to cover it. When people asked, I’d say, “Oh, I got hurt during cheerleading.”
That was the longest-lasting “injury” in history! Mama was always working, and I’d already be in bed when she got home, so she never noticed.
Regret and the Lesson
Now looking back, I realize how lucky I was. I could’ve ended up with HIV, Hpatitis, or worse — because that needle was NOT properly sanitized. This was the late 80s, early 90s — the height of the HIV/ADS crisis.
I ask myself, “Girl, what were you thinking?” But I believe God had His hand on me.
As for him, he didn’t stop there. He even got my middle name — “Lenise” — tattooed inside a heart on his chest. I said, “Oh no baby, I ain’t doin’ that.”
The Ending and the Realization
Years later, we reconnected on Facebook. He had covered up the tattoo with a big sleeve. And me? I still have mine. Not because I want to keep it, but because I’m too scared of the pain to remove or cover it.
My husband knows about it — and he doesn’t care. It’s been there so long, it’s basically a part of me now.
Final Message
Y’all, this is why they say: Never get someone’s name tattooed on you. I didn’t even tattoo his full name — just one letter — and it was still a mistake.
When you're young and in love, you think it’ll last forever. But the truth is, it usually doesn’t. That’s why I’m telling this story — so the younger generation can learn from my mistakes.
I was lucky I didn’t catch anything dangerous. But I did learn the importance of making smart choices when you're young. Love will have you doing crazy things — but please think before you act.
That’s my story, y’all. I’m just being real with you and not afraid to own up to my past mistakes. Because in the end, that’s how we learn and grow.
