I was definitely one of the little girls that got sucked in to believing that "one day my Prince will come" and that I get to ride into the sunset the end.
Don't get me wrong. I still believe in romance. I still believe in love.
But I was young and impressionable, and I thought that things just come to you without even trying, just because you're deserving of it.
Well, let me not get ahead of myself. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?
Now, I was really a lucky girl. In high school, I met my soul mate. But my soul mate was actually my best friend.
In the same classroom, I met my first serious long-term boyfriend.
I was the happiest, luckiest girl. I knew this.
We made out like horny rabbits all the time. Through him, I discovered intense sexual feelings. We were frisky teenagers.
We discovered the pleasure of rubbing up against each other at a concert, and dry humping later that night.
We lost our virginity to each other on St. Patrick's Day, which luckily was also Senior Ditch Day.
It felt so real and so forever.
In my college years, my boyfriend and I didn't go to the same school, but we were close enough that we saw each other almost every week. There were definitely moments when I felt like I was missing out on something whenever I was visiting him. And honestly, there was a lot of disappointment.
Then there was grad school. I moved across the country. First we saw each other twice a month, then once a month during the school year.
As graduation neared, we planned to move in together. He was going to relocate to my city because I wasn't ready to move home and I believed that there were many opportunities for his profession.
We had chosen a gorgeous apartment that I fell in love with. Sunny, porch, open kitchen, 2 bedroom. Gorgeous.
I had even started planning out what colors to paint the walls, what bedding to use, and what furniture we could have.
A week before our move in date, I get a phone call from him. "I can't do it. I can't move in with you."
I was furious. I was livid. My mind was racing. I had to figure out my options.
There was no way that I could move into that gorgeous apartment and take in a roommate. I would be a crazy person, and I wouldn't want to subject a stranger to my level of crazy.
I told him that he was not getting out of flying to where I lived to help me move to a new apartment, and if I can't find a new studio apartment then he gets to witness me becoming homeless.
It was the most miserable weekend. We even attended his friend's wedding, friends who had met when they were in high school at a college summer program but lived long-distance for most of their relationship. At this wedding, as I was listening to the couple's parents talk about their new in-laws, I knew that all that I had believed in because of this relationship was a lie. We were not "meant-to-be."
Luckily, I found a studio apartment that I could afford. Everything was ready to be moved.
The night before my moving day, he had one more bit of news to share with me. He had spoken with his mother (who I personally had some issues with), and she basically told him that he needed to fly back to school and that I was being selfish for wanting his help in moving.
Selfish.
The next day, he flew away. A couple of weeks later, we officially broke up. It was an 8 and 1/2 year relationship, full of disappointments, arguments, several break ups, long-distance learning, and firsts.
This was the guy I lost my virginity to. We had sexcapades in a car, in a subway, even while his roommate was getting some in his lower level bed.
I had really made sure to take all the necessary precautions, from using condoms to getting birth control. I made sure to educate myself on my body and sexual health.
I couldn't imagine having sex or even being intimate with anyone else.
But I was 24 years old with a healthy sexual drive.
Though I was going through a lot of emotional turmoil after our breakup, I felt like I couldn't just stop feeling sexual.
And so the story continues.
Lesson Learned: Sometimes, there's much more beyond your high school sweetheart. Some folks have that luxury...others don't consider it as such.
Don't get me wrong. I still believe in romance. I still believe in love.
But I was young and impressionable, and I thought that things just come to you without even trying, just because you're deserving of it.
Well, let me not get ahead of myself. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?
*****
In the same classroom, I met my first serious long-term boyfriend.
I was the happiest, luckiest girl. I knew this.
We made out like horny rabbits all the time. Through him, I discovered intense sexual feelings. We were frisky teenagers.
We discovered the pleasure of rubbing up against each other at a concert, and dry humping later that night.
We lost our virginity to each other on St. Patrick's Day, which luckily was also Senior Ditch Day.
It felt so real and so forever.
In my college years, my boyfriend and I didn't go to the same school, but we were close enough that we saw each other almost every week. There were definitely moments when I felt like I was missing out on something whenever I was visiting him. And honestly, there was a lot of disappointment.
Then there was grad school. I moved across the country. First we saw each other twice a month, then once a month during the school year.
As graduation neared, we planned to move in together. He was going to relocate to my city because I wasn't ready to move home and I believed that there were many opportunities for his profession.
We had chosen a gorgeous apartment that I fell in love with. Sunny, porch, open kitchen, 2 bedroom. Gorgeous.
I had even started planning out what colors to paint the walls, what bedding to use, and what furniture we could have.
A week before our move in date, I get a phone call from him. "I can't do it. I can't move in with you."
I was furious. I was livid. My mind was racing. I had to figure out my options.
There was no way that I could move into that gorgeous apartment and take in a roommate. I would be a crazy person, and I wouldn't want to subject a stranger to my level of crazy.
I told him that he was not getting out of flying to where I lived to help me move to a new apartment, and if I can't find a new studio apartment then he gets to witness me becoming homeless.
It was the most miserable weekend. We even attended his friend's wedding, friends who had met when they were in high school at a college summer program but lived long-distance for most of their relationship. At this wedding, as I was listening to the couple's parents talk about their new in-laws, I knew that all that I had believed in because of this relationship was a lie. We were not "meant-to-be."
Luckily, I found a studio apartment that I could afford. Everything was ready to be moved.
The night before my moving day, he had one more bit of news to share with me. He had spoken with his mother (who I personally had some issues with), and she basically told him that he needed to fly back to school and that I was being selfish for wanting his help in moving.
Selfish.
The next day, he flew away. A couple of weeks later, we officially broke up. It was an 8 and 1/2 year relationship, full of disappointments, arguments, several break ups, long-distance learning, and firsts.
This was the guy I lost my virginity to. We had sexcapades in a car, in a subway, even while his roommate was getting some in his lower level bed.
I had really made sure to take all the necessary precautions, from using condoms to getting birth control. I made sure to educate myself on my body and sexual health.
I couldn't imagine having sex or even being intimate with anyone else.
But I was 24 years old with a healthy sexual drive.
Though I was going through a lot of emotional turmoil after our breakup, I felt like I couldn't just stop feeling sexual.
And so the story continues.
Lesson Learned: Sometimes, there's much more beyond your high school sweetheart. Some folks have that luxury...others don't consider it as such.
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