This months' question pertaining to our first serious relationship is a little tricky and bittersweet. Looking back, most of my early relationships were filled with plenty of girl-drama, and were not very long and not what I'd call "serious" by my standards today, but at the time I certainly I thought they were!  Despite previous boyfriends, my first serious relationship was Ricardo. I met him when I was 18. I had pulled into a service station that he worked at to use the phone, and when I did I backed into a car! I don't know how he got my number but he called me and told me that the car had damage and that I was going to have to pay to fix it before the owner came to pick it up.  Then he said he thought he could fix it, if I bought him a pack of beer!  Despite the fact that I was 18, that seemed like a better option than paying for the damage. I have no idea why I wasn't carded, but I bought the 6-pack of beer and the rest as they say, is history. Despite the sketchy meeting, he was the first of very few men I have loved.  He was good looking, confident, and had an MG convertible. Born into a life of poverty, he wanted to make something of himself and become a doctor. He was compassionate with his family members who had less than he, loved his mother, loved my cooking, and we had a lot of good times together dancing, camping and going to Mexico. We dated for about 1 1/2 years. I was often conflicted in that we did not share the same religion. I had just been baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormon) a few months prior, and I found it increasingly difficult to reconcile my relationship with him and the standards I was struggling to observe, and future I wanted. Unfortunately my first real love was my first real heartbreak.  In the end, another girl and I put 2 and 2 together - he had been dating us both for the past 3-4 months.  I was devastated. He wanted to try to stay together and move past it but I couldn't seem to forget it or trust him.  We stayed in-touch on and off for about 3 years and then lost touch with one another. I think of him and his mom now and again, and when I do I am able to finally focus on the good feelings and times I had and not the mistakes we made or how it ended.