Everyone has experienced it. That burning desire, the unquenchable fire. The feeling in your gut that just drives you crazy.
That’s right, I’m talking about your first love, and the STD that they just gave you.
Seriously, first loves are the best and the worst. Right? You’re simultaneously on top of the world, while puking your guts out at the height.
I’m not sure if that’s how it worked out for everybody else, but that’s how it worked out for me. And I’m here to tell you about it.
I met Megan* when I was 16. It was at a crappy Christian rock concert. (See why I’m so jaded?!) We immediately hit it off, meaning that I found her attractive because she was alive and paying attention to me, and she thought I would be an interesting experiment about to what extent human males can deal with psychological torture.
Our first 2 months were spent avoiding her boyfriend. She decided it would be better not to tell him she had broken up with him. So she just kind of ignored him, and so he threatened to kill both of us. Luckily, that threat came just as he started college, and I imagine getting laid by some women as skeezy as he was made him forget us for a while. I used to feel sorry for him, once I realized I was being two-timed the way she had two-timed him. Then I remembered that he was a senior in High school when they started dating, and she was only a freshman. Uggh.
After that, we *ahem* became as amorous as two people can become. I imagine this added to the complication of things, as well as the intensity of the relationship (real or perceived) but, DAMN if it wasn’t fun!
That was the weird part, though. Sometimes, she would be so out of control to get it on, and other times she would be as cold as a block of ice, in a cooler filled with ice, on the dark side of Pluto, and Superman there blowing on the cooler with his cold-breath.
One time, we actually got in a fight over it. (Shock of shocks, we got in fights all the time.) I had just gotten back from working a 10 hour shift at the pool (I was a lifeguard), and the day before I had worked an 18 hour shift from 8am til 2am, and the day before that I had worked a 10 hour shift from 4pm til 2am.*** So, as you may understand, being rational creatures of this planet, I was tired. I met Megan at her parent’s house, and we were planning to meet her friends in an hour. So I had about 30 minutes to sleep before we went out. Was that okay with her? Of course not. She was horny and wanted to fuck my brains out. I was comatose, and she got pissed. That’s right folks, she was mad that I wouldn’t take the few minutes that I had to sleep, and bone her.
Other times, when I was inclined to do something physical, and really kinky, out-there, freaky-deaky stuff, like kiss her, she would throw a huge fit about how that was all I was interested in, and that I didn’t love her. It was partially true, I was 16 for crying out loud! But I never her put her in a situation where she would have felt coerced or forced to do what I wanted.
So all this went on for quite some time. Her mood swings became more bizarre and frequent, she tried to control how I looked and who I hung out with. I went for months without seeing, or even talking to my friends. I continued to tell myself to deal with it because nobody would ever have sex with me again. Had I been thinking properly, and paying attention to my female friends, I could have probably been getting it on, no strings attached, with more than a few people. (Oh, Mokie Jovis, you’ll probably want to have skipped the preceding 5 paragraphs.)
Finally, she moved away to go to college. Upon her first weekend there, the weekend of my birthday, incidentally, she decided that hooking up with a random guy was fine, and she pulled the same crap on me that she pulled on her ex, and just assumed that I would figure out we were broken up. I can’t believe I fell for that.
Conclusion to follow tomorrow.
*Not her real name.**
**Yes it is.
***There’s a whole ‘nother post about those 3 days.
