First kiss, first love, that special first time. Nobody ever remembers the first time they had to tell someone that they don’t love them anymore. An ignorant child of seventeen I took the coward’s option of completely avoiding her for an entire month, no mean feat considering we were in the same year at school. That morning she sat doleful and saturnine in the window of the common room keeping watch for me, that morning I saw her doleful and saturnine and legged it down the back stairs. A fruitless six month relationship, should have been easy enough to end it as quickly as it started but I’ve never been good at dealing out crushing blows.
As standard my free period was spent in a music classroom jamming with my bandmates and this was where I became cornered. A meek knock on the door and a lock of ice cold blond hair peering into the narrow window, I knew the game was up. Time to take a step towards maturity and break my first heart.
The lads knew the story and made themselves scarce, although remained close enough to hear the action. It was all typically cinematic, the face to face encounter, the tears, the clichéd cowardice of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. And then to take it directly to the silver screen a standard non-diegetic love song starts to play. However the source was a little closer to the action, my mate Baxter began to pour out Jose Gonzalez’ ‘Heartbeats’ with delicate arpeggio flowing from his guitar and his perfectly smooth voice declaring the none too subtle lyric ‘we were in love’. Unfortunately rather than add a crystalline touch to this emotional memory Baxter’s serenade caused me to crack up laughing which resulted in a direct high velocity application of her open palm to my face.