Julie Field was entirely different from what I was used to at the time. Whereas the girls I associated with were typically carefree and on the wild side, Julie was reserved and extremely conservative. I don’t recall how I ended up going with her, but I do remember taking her to some important school activities.
The earliest school activity I recall attending with her was the Sadie Hawkins dance. It being a girl’s-choice dance, I am inclined to believe it may have been Julie that wooed me, rather than the other way around. Regardless of who made initial contact, I dated her for several months in my senior year of high school and beyond.
I remember being attracted to Julie on a physical level more than to her personality. She had a great body, with long legs, a small butt, and perky breasts. There was one physical feature that I didn’t like about her, her nose. Julie had a sloping nose with a dent in the middle. I avoided thinking about it. However, it was always in the back of my mind that someday she would need to get a nose job. Still, that didn’t stop me from engaging in heavy petting and frequent make-out sessions with Julie. Once she let loose, she was quite a passionate girl.
It was with Julie that I began to become a bit conceited. Because of her nurturing behavior towards me, it was easy to play the taker rather than the giver. In later relationships, this growing ego would climax to a detrimental level and cause me much harm. For the most part, I was still fairly level-headed with Julie.
She was a stabilizing influence in my life. I was going through a transitional phase, shortly before my mission, and Julie helped me feel better about what I was doing. There were a myriad of reasons why I shouldn’t go on a mission, but I through caution to the wind and ventured forth with Julie’s support. I’m glad I did and I’m equally glad that she was there to see me through.
Julie was also there at the airport to see me off to Brazil. She gave me a hug and a kiss and vowed to write me every week. Former girlfriends Jana Taylor and Wendy Isaacson were also there, as friends, to wish me well. Two years later, it was only Julie that was there upon my return. During my mission she had kept her promise, for the most part, and wrote me regularly. Her letters were appropriate for a girl waiting for a missionary, never a hint of passion in them, entirely plutonic. One couldn’t have told by what was contained in them that they were from a girl that was romantically involved with me.
Upon my return from Brazil, Julie and I were in a park in Farmington. I was still quite confused as to what the future would have in store for me. She said, offhandedly, “So, are we going to get married in a year or so?” I responded with one of the cruelest things I have ever said, “The day I marry you will be a cold day in hell.” To say she was surprised would be a serious understatement. She gathered her wits about her and said, “Well, then I don’t think I can ever have any romantic feelings about you anymore.” With that, our relationship ended and I never thought I would see or hear from her again.