Virgin BlowJob (Update)

I’ve been in a publishing slump, which I shouldn’t complain about because I normally get at least one acceptance letter a month from a journal. So why am I bitching when I don’t for two months? Because I can and January and February was kind of shitty anyways.

But this Monday I found out one of my poems got accepted into a badass anthology about women’s issue. An Anthology I was really hoping to get into. I mean I had busted my ass with the poem they accepted too. Rewrite, after rewrite and I had even gotten to the point of sending it to my old professor (a week before I found out) and he was like, “I don’t find anything to cut or pinch or snip. It’s funny and partly scandalous and damn good.”

The poem that was accepted is about my old ex/hook-up/whatever you want to label “Virgin BlowJob.” The poem carries images touching on memory, my emotions and the sense of place. But especially the emotions, the idea that “I wasn’t the one.” Because he that said to my face, “It’s not like we’re gonna get married or anything.” This was right before the blowjob I gave him.

This was the image that stuck the most with me from the hook-up. It wasn’t like I was hoping I end up with this guy at all during the hook-up, but we had gotten close, we had stayed up late talking a lot. I didn’t think marriage, but I thought I was more than a blowjob.

He made me realize two things:

  1. Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean you’re not a chauvinistic pig.
  2. Men really do think like that don’t they? They really think “well this is just a fuck.”

And you know the worst part is I think I was just a girl to fuck around with because I wasn’t a virgin and he couldn’t be in a real relationship with someone who slept around. (He was religious to a fault).

It’s funny though because last night an old friend was asking about him. Gosh, I hadn’t really thought about him since I posted about him on this blog and it’s been a year and a half since the corn field thing happened and a just about a year since I’ve spoken to him.

So, since it was getting close to 3AM and my mind needed a break from submissions I decided to take a peek at his Facebook profile.

He just recently (like last week) proposed to his girlfriend.

I never really have mentioned this before, but the moment he said to me, “not like we’re gonna get married” his Ex girlfriend popped in his head because I knew and felt that was who he wanted to marry.

I’m not sad or hurt. 

It’s more of just a “huh. Well, look at that.

My poem was pretty much on target, huh?”

Leftover Relationship Pieces

It’s not the sex I miss the most. Not any of the gifts, cuddling or hand holding.

I miss the friendship.

When my ex of four years cheated on me and left, it wasn’t the other woman, the pictures I found or the love poems he wrote to her that hit my gut like a freight train.  It was the realization that I had just lost my best friend. And I know there’s a quote, a story or poem that talks about the whole process oh losing someone, but they haven’t died, they still walk around Earth. Yet, they have left your life like they have died.

And I don’t cry for my past relationships. It’s been a very, very long time since I missed any of my ex’s.

But I really miss having that best friend.

Ok, I know I have loads of best friends, who happen to be both women and men.  I’m so thankful for the people in my life and I got really lucky to have so many people who care about me.

But for those of you that have been in a long relationship there’s this other kind of best friend you find in the person you publicly admit is your girlfriend or boyfriend. There’s something wonderful about having that person there.

God, I miss when having someone to just sit and talk for hours about books, speech and debate. To bounce off ideas, emotions and if I’m acting crazy or not.

That certain person, you just have to text or call and tell them: I went to pick up my bridesmaid dress today and the lady was like, “would you like to try it on here?” And my internal voice is like, “I just ate half a pizza by myself…noooooo.” But I just told her, “I’m in a hurry, so I’ll just be picking it up.” (Lies). I was going home to eat ice cream.

I miss those conversations.

Ok, sure I could tell my friends. But I have to space out my ridiculousness with them. For everyone’s sanity.

So that’s what I miss most. I miss the friendship in love and it’s probably been about four years since I’ve felt that.

It’s not pain or hurt I feel. I cry about not having it and I guess what I feel is longing. It’s like a television series or cliffhanger books: You really wish you could look into the future and know what’s going to happen. Is everything going to be ok?

I’m really terrible about television shows and looking up what’s going to happen before I watch an episode. I try really hard and so far haven’t really looked ahead in The Walking Dead and somehow I’ve managed not learning anything about Breaking Bad (I still haven’t watched it yet).

 So, I think I cry sometimes about missing this friendship because I’m not really sure when it’s going to come around again.

Don’t feel sad for me though. That’s not what this post was intended to do. I don’t need pity. Yes, I’m sad and it hurts. If you can feel that through my words, then that’s enough for me. Because being sad about this, it just reminds me about what matters most to me in a relationship.

Valentines Day


I don’t like Valentines day, not because I’m single. I also don’t like anti-Valentines day. I think if you go out of your way to celebrate anti-Valentines day then the Valentines day wins. You’re doing everything Valentines day-ey: the wine, chocolate and the horrible film choices. Anti-Valentines day is just with your friends and even if you’re not doing these things (chocolate, wine, sex) and you’re doing stuff like, “eating fried chicken.” Which is sexy and counts as Valentine-ey.

Shit, it’s ironic for me to be bitching about Valentines day. Doesn’t it make you think, well if you’re bitching about how it doesn’t matter, it makes it matter and then you try to say no it still doesn’t matter but then you’re brain is like, “umm yeah, you’re sitting here for 30 minutes writing a post about it so it must matter” and then you’re like “shut-up brain” and then you find yourself with a handful of chocolates in your mouth, pouring a glass of wine and pressing play to The Notebook. 

It’s like coming to after being blacked out drunk.

What I’m doing on Valentines Day: working. I work on Saturday, from 8am-4pm. Then I’ll go home, eat, watch Gilmore Girls (because that’s what I’m into watching right now) because I don’t have to pay attention, it’s a nice sound playing in the background as I write. If I’m feeling extra hot and bothered I may study for the GRE and work on my personal statement.

I might masturbate too. I got a good masturbation option going on right now so that probably will happen at some point tomorrow. (You know what I’m talking about).


Baggage Claim

After enough time has passed we take our baggage and dump out the contents, the lies, cheating and the fabric of our old relationships. Without a handbook, school lesson plans or DIY step by step guides we still know how to dump out the memories like blinking when the wind blows dust around.

I dumped all my “baggage” out a few months ago, after the one-year marker of no sex, gaining my fair share in ice cream weight and after I cried enough to fill up  The Great Salt Lake.  Still, after it was all said and done I felt sad and I had these new set of insecurities involving sex, my body, and love.

We forget about the what the “baggage” came in, like an old suitcase in the corner. And I have like five suitcases sitting in my garage (that’s not a metaphor, that’s a real thing, moving across the country sucks). I’m sure I was conscious (back to the metaphor) when I didn’t throw out the last pieces of my old relationships. Maybe I’m not ready to let go, never believed in ripping off the band-aid, or denial has taken hold. Whatever the reason I forgot about the suitcases linger in the back. And on the days I trip over them and hit my shins I realize I have a long way to go before I’m all the way healed.

I spend a lot of time pretending I don’t know I have extra baggage and pretend like I don’t know what my remaining baggage is exactly. This is an utter and complete lie. I think about my leftover baggage each time I get naked with a man. I think about my baggage each time I look down at my body, each blouse, each button I misplace, I know exactly what’s holding me back.

In hopes of throwing out the last of my baggage I hope to confess every piece nasty memory I have been carrying in my mind each time I lie down naked with someone, every time I try to enjoy someone’s smile and each time another “he” leaves me, I remember every nasty memory all over again, like I’m reliving the moments again.

  1. My high school boyfriend (Adam) and I had already moved from just making out, to fingering, handjobs, to oral. One night when we weren’t watching the movie on the TV he went down on me, unzipped my pants and right as he went down for a moment came back up and made the most disgusted sound and faces and said he couldn’t handle the smell of my body and instead I went down on him and his sweaty balls.. *I’m sure I had showered and I was only a young teenage girl, going through every short of change, but of course I still question my hygiene to this day.  I have carried such a massive insecurity about someone going down on me.
  2. My senior year of high school Adam and I went to my senior prom together. I did my hair, wore a beautiful blue dress, strapless, ruffled at my bust like the waves of the ocean. He looked at me and said I was wearing too much make-up. Thank goodness my best friend Tammy told him to shut the fuck up.
  3. My boyfriend who cheated on me, the first time we broke up (before the cheating) one of the reasons we broke up was because he didn’t like how I was always wearing sweatshirts and not wearing enough make-up.
  4. My boyfriend who cheated on me, the second and last time we broke up I knew for a fact he couldn’t stand me being better at speech than him. I was a better coach and a better performer. He couldn’t handle this.
  5. ^He called me stupid and told me to shut-up a lot^ I always thought it was joking. This is not true. It’s hard now when people tell me to shut-up or say I’m dumb because of him. I flinch when someone tells me to shut-up. Even in a joking matter.
  6. When I found ^his^ list of all the girls he had dated and I saw my qualities were “sporty body” and “can get guys easy” I felt like I had nothing to offer but a body and flirtatious charm. That was the first time I felt like a slut.
  7. The last time my ex (who cheated on me) and I ever spoke, we were trying to be friends and it was going well until the really deep seeded emotions came out. He screamed and demanded I leave his house, cussed me out and flipped me off as I drove away. (My guy friend was also hanging out with us at the time and saw everything).
  8. My boyfriend John told me, “no one is ever going to love you, no one is ever going to want to marry you.” Sometimes on very dark days or right after a break up I think of those words and wonder he really did curse me.
  9. When I went to give John a piece of my mind and I ended up in the shower with him.
  10. That moment on the leather couch, or was it cross stitched patterned? Were the lights on or off? Was there a pool table or a beer pong table next to us? Was I really even drunk? These details are fuzzy and it’s weird to explain the moment: I was more watching then present, like an out of body experience or fly on the wall. I can see the hands holding me and the unwanted touching and my slow reaction.
  11. I think the moment I was lying on the floor, in a room filled with cigarette smoke and I was so hurt by how he left me. He just left, walked out and onto another girl. I thought fucking someone else was going hurt him somehow. Like when a boy pulls a girl’s pigtails. When in reality I’d become every terrible angsty teen novel and I fucked the guy covered in tattoos, the tongue piercing, who smelled and tasted of cigarettes. I closed my eyes and pretend to be somewhere else and this fuck changed everything. I fucked about six more guys like him, all different heights, variety of personalities but surprisingly all tasted of smoke and ash. I no longer can smell cigarettes without having flashbacks. Within a few months sex was no longer about love or sharing a moment with someone, it was my meal ticket to self-worth.


Deep breath.

*Coincidence that yesterday one of the suitcases (literally a suitcase I own) fell apart yesterday and this morning as I was leaving for work  I watched the garbage truck haul it away.

Beware: You May Fall in Love with Me

New York Times went over what psychologist Arthur Aron believes are 36 essential questions that can accelerated falling in love. Aron explores the idea of intimacy between complete strangers by having them ask each other a series of 36 personal questions and answers.

So I decided, like any rational woman trying to avoid editing her own writing to give these questions a shot. *You’re supposed to answer these questions with “a partner” but I have no stranger, I have no man to test this out with, so I will just write out my portion.

You’ve been warned, you may fall in love with me. (Not).

Set I

  1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest? I’ve been wrecking my mind over who I would want to have dinner with. Between famous writers to my mentors (who I have dinner with at least a few times a year) If I’m going to be a genie with this dinner, perhaps I can say I want to have dinner with someone who would end up having amazing sex with me after dinner. That’s the choice I’m hoping for, knowing it ain’t happening anymore.
  2. Would you like to be famous? In what way? I don’t think I want to be famous. I spill food on my clothes and I like going to the bank looking a mess and buying food in questionable outfits. If I was famous I would be plastered all over tabloid covers with the caption “What was she thinking?” Perhaps in the most unrealistic idea of wanting to be famous, would be to have a collection of poetry sell well. That would be marvelous.
  3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why? Better question would be when don’t I? I always prep phone conversations. As a person with high anxiety and someone involved in the speech community, it’s important to prep my conversations. Plus if it’s an important phone call you’d be crazy, not to prep the conversation!
  4. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you? Gosh, I’ve answered this before: Drinking tea, working on my writing, chatting with friends, eating some good food and some good sex. Watching a movie and cuddling with someone would be nice right about now. Or: Going on a hike, reading a wonderful book and lying out somewhere beautiful.
  5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else? Last time I sang to myself was yesterday driving home from work. I sang “Flawless” by Beyonce, “OctaHate” by Ryn Weaver and “Come And Get Your Love” by Redbone. The last I sang to someone else, umm probably when I was drunk  and it was probably “My humps.” Get me drunk enough, ask me to sing, I’ll probably sing.
  6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want? My mind, because once the mind goes its really hard to enjoy life, to enjoy who you are. If the mind goes how can the body really stick around? Or why would the body want to?
  7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die? Sometimes when I’m driving I picture a car slamming into me or I have these terrible dreams where a man tries to rape me. But no secret hunch, because my hunches are always wrong.
  8. (Can’t do 8, about a partner)
  9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful? For my learning disability. I’m not sure who I would be if not for carrying this particular part of myself. I’m aware my disability has given me compassion, empathy and the willingness to walk in another’s shoes.
  10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be? Maybe to be less anxious and more of a risk taker. 
  11. (Can’t do this one….partner)
  12.  If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?  To only need an hour or two of sleep a night and to never feel drowsy. 

Set II

  1.  If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know? The sane, logical, what how I know I should answer with, I don’t want to know about my future, we aren’t meant to. But the insane side of me, who peeks at season finals and awards shows online before I watch them would want to know about her future. I would never ask about myself because I’m sure I know all about my negative flaws and insecurities I mean I do spend 24/7 with myself. 
  2. Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it? Not really. I want to travel more and I will eventually I want to get my masters and I will. Geez questions gives us a break, dreams are called dreams for a reason. It’s a work in progress. 
  3. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life? I’m never sure how to word this, because it’s not exactly receiving my bachelor’s degree. I want more than that now. How do you really explain to someone that your greatest accomplishment is overcoming everything you thought you would never could? The way I write, the way I read, the way I believe I can achieve so much more, that’s my greatest accomplishment.
  4. What do you value most in a friendship? Trust and honesty
  5. What is your most treasured memory? How can anyone just have one treasured memory? I treasure the memories I have camping and looking up at the stars. The national parks I’ve been too. I treasure each moment I get up on stage and perform my poetry. Actually, I also really treasure when I performed two of these Dramatic Interpretations. (Won’t give out the names) but I really felt like myself and another person all at once. That moment where you finally take a breath, magic.
  6. What is your most terrible memory? I have two memories that are so strong it feels like they happened yesterday: 1. When I was in kindergarten and I saw my dog get hit by a car. 2. IWhen I was very little I had a brain scan. It was terrible, dark, cold room. The cap on my head looked like a swimmers cap and the paste from the metal rods in my hair twisted and hurt my head. I knew why I was there because one of the teachers in the special education program wanted to figure out if I was autistic or not. One of the first times, I really felt like something was wrong with me, but I couldn’t see it or feel it, but I understood that I wasn’t like everyone else in my class. 
  7. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why? Of course, I would change how I was living. I would only have one year left. I would go do all the things I was putting on hold and spend time with those that mean the most to me. Which then begs the question, why are you putting anything on hold? Why not live life to the fullest! *Mind blown.
  8. What does friendship mean to you? It’s like a relationship without sex. I don’t expect them to be around me 24/7 or to talk with me every day, but its nice to know they are there and they care about me and they are thinking about me. Friendship is the give and take, the making fun of each other and drinking in sweats, watching terrible movies and picking up awful drive-thru foods like McDonalds at 2AM.
  9. What roles do love and affection play in your life? A very big role in my life that I continually try to ignore. 
  10. (Can’t…no partner)
  11. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s? My intermediate family is pretty close, but they stay out of my dating life, etc. I like it that way. But my parents are very warm and caring people. I’ve always been told by my friends and cousins how lucky I am to have parents like mine. I’m very thankful for the childhood I had. I may have struggled with my learning disability but I had great parents to hold my hand along the way.
  12. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother? It’s no Gilmore Girls relationship (thank goodness) But it gets the job done. We would clash when I was a teenager (I know, how unusual) But I have a great relationship with my mother.


  1. Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling … “ (I’ll try to do this one) We don’t know each other. We may never meet. Yet we must feel close to this point of the questions.
  2. Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share … “ Speech and Debate, books and writing with.
  3. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know. (No partner, but I can answer this out to space) I can’t cook, I’m too hard on myself, I worry I’m not good at sex or no one will want to be with me, in the long run. I hate being belittled or being put down. I’m terrible at taking medicine. I can be super organized or very messy. The most important part of love for me is having a best friend in the person I choose to date, to sleep with, to be in a relationship with. I want a best friend in that person.
  4. (Need partner)
  5. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life. I have to share just one. Gosh, I don’t even nowhere to begin. I remember one embarrassing time I was in the middle of anal with one of the guys I was seeing and he was at his mother’s large house (his house was being renovated) I’m sure she walked in for a hot second. He didn’t notice, but I did.
  6. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself? In front of someone: last month in front of my parents. By myself: Monday night.
  7. (Need partner)
  8. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about? Rape jokes and “you’re a woman” jokes. It’s hard to specify exactly want not to joke about in front of me. I think its just understanding and knowing the limits of a joke.
  9. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? I’m not sure if I can answer this one exactly how I would want to.
  10. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why? Only one item?! Damn! I guess this old copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. It’s a really old copy and books mean so much to me.
  11. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why? My little brother, because he’s my little brother. I would hate to know his life, was cut short. Plus I would miss having one of my closest friends around.
  12. Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen. Ok, I was going to do this one but after a page worth of writing I realized no, too much. Wanna know about my problems, want to help? Email me:

So, feeling the love yet? A warm feeling? Heart beating fast If so then you should get that checked out?


The One Who Changed Everything

I’ve been avoided this post because this one was going to be next. He was my next boyfriend and I wasn’t sure I knew what to write about, to talk about. I feel nothing about this situation now.

“So many events and moments that seemed insignificant add up. I remember how for the last Valentine´s Day, N gave flowers but no card. In restaurants, he looked off into the middle distance while my hand would creep across the table to hold his. He would always let go first. I realize I can´t remember his last spontaneous gesture of affection.”
― Suzanne Finnamore

To Know the Start, You Must Begin at the End

It was August, but I don’t remember the sticky T-shirt feeling your suppose to have during this month, or the sweaty walk up his flight of stairs and the continuing question, “It’s too hot to not have air units.” But I remember the wind, his window was open, even though he was nowhere near. I had two more hours before I would pick him up at the airport. I had to beg and plead with him to pick him up, to spend time with him for the night. His texts were worse than a sigh, he wanted to sleep and didn’t seem to have any interest in having sex, even though we hadn’t seen each other in three months.

Did I know he was cheating on me? 

In many ways yes, I knew. My mind had already made many of the connections, but the rest of my body wasn’t ready to catch up and learn he had cheated on me for five months (longer than I assumed). He hadn’t just been sleeping with some girl, but he loved (maybe still loves) her. He introduced her to his family during a vacation they took together, he stole my car to see her, he took out the photos of me and filled them with her tall, skinny body, her red lipstick and every photo of her showed had a soft smile.

Walking up his stairs that night didn’t feel different. But it was colder, for an August night it was almost chilly. And he didn’t even try and hide the beautiful lacy cami folded up so neatly, so gently. It wasn’t mine and I was sure this wasn’t a gift. Her love letters laid out across his bed, his poems written about her, some sweet and most sexual poems describing her breast, her pale skin, the way she fucked the best.

This girl wrote poetry (at this time I didn’t even imagine I would want to become a writer), she was edgy and had the same dark sadness he carried. They were perfect for each other and they figured this out before I ever did. Before he decided to let me know. And I knew her, pretty well actually. I had hugged her a few times, stopped by her birthday (where they met, were my roommates pointed out an uncomfortable flirting vibe)She was an avid activist and feminist woman and she was best friends with my best friend.

Walking down his stairs was a completely different story. My knees shook, the room seemed so hot and I didn’t feel the need to cry. I met up with my brother to pick up my cheating boyfriend from the airport. I hugged my cheating boyfriend, I smiled at his return and he mostly spoke with my brother. I finally noticed the distance had been there for months.

His main reason for cheating on me: He was in love and he thought we had broken up already. When he dropped me off at the airport, we hugged and a got teary eyed. We said goodbye and he though this was our break-up. Even though I spoke on the phone with him, text him and told him I loved him.

Random Memories

I remember finding one thing, this “list” he wrote. It had all the names of the women he had ever been with or loved/cared about. We weren’t ranked with numbers but in more of factual way.Every girl had two things like, Betty: Pretty eyes, kinky, Mary: Nice hands, enjoys going out. 

Mine were: “Sporty” and “Can get men easy”. 

Both were night owls, but those weird night owls who like to walk around parks late at night. My EX use to try and get me to join him, but I hated walking in public places at night. I wanted to be at home reading books, working on papers, watching a film. I would later find out they would go off together for walks in the park less than a mile from our houses. Yes, crazy to think we all lived in the same neighborhood. I later would tell my best friend about this, the one who lived with this girl and she would be shocked and say, “I remember her telling the house she was going on a late night walk and it was a normal thing for her to do.” I would say, “It was a normal thing for him to do too.”

He and I would try to be friends. I would forgive them both, because that’s what a young lady does. She doesn’t show her pain, she puts on a good face. That’s what the stories show. “You don’t want to be the bitch” So you met her, you welcome her into your house, you hear him talk about her hair, how her body is thin in just the right places. How she loves poetry, loves writing and how she doesn’t fit in with the world. I would break ties with him a year after it all happened, because he wouldn’t admit that stealing my car was a bad thing. He blames me for getting him fired, for ruining his life, for making her leave him. So he kicked me out of his house screaming at me, cussing me out and flipping me off.

We never spoke again and I never want to but he did text me congrats when I graduated, he text all these nice words and a bit of me wanted to text him back, but I will never let myself forget how he treated me. So no I will never speak to him again. I don’t want to.

But no, I don’t feel hatred towards him, sadness or regret. I feel nothing. Not the numb kind of nothing. Like when the dentist injects the novocaine into your gums, but the numbing sense something is missing that was once there. Like you once had wings but they were clipped, or all your hair falls out at once. I have forgotten so much about him and our time together. It feels like I’ve been thrown into the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind 


Who am I now after three years? A young woman trying to get her shit together. I think it’s the best way to describe me. I have more trust issues than I can count and that I was aware of a year ago. The body issues I never had before and I’m scared another guy will call me stupid, put my down, grab me hard.

I spent a lot of time between other guys sheets trying to prove I’m not worthless

Today I sit in my room looking for old emails, letter, anything from this relationship to give me a jump start for this post and I realized I got rid of everything. It’s all gone and I just feel numb.

My First Time


There is a lot to be said about the first time you have sex. You never forget that person, that moment and that *facepalm* feeling, “what were you thinking?” In the words of Mike Birbiglia, “At least no one saw it.”

John and I only dated for about five months, but it would a life changing five months.

Recently I told my best friend Sarah (friends since 4th grade) that if I had never met John we wouldn’t have met half of the friends we spend time with to this day. If I hadn’t dated John she may have never met her fiance. (More detail on this in a future post)

I met John (or Johnny) through a friend on Facebook. Johnny, my friend/his friend and I all ran cross country. I wasn’t running any longer though and was still dealing this a very painful back and neck injury due to soccer. We met via facebook, like any weird high school relationship starts. Note: This is such an embarrassing story for me personally.

We planned to meet at the local mall, like any young teenager with no real concept of hanging out places. My best friend Sarah came, even though I knew Johnny was a real person (thanks to my friend who knew him) Sarah just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a murder. He wasn’t a murder just in case anyone’s wondering, but after dating him and how we broke up I will say he turned out to be an asshole.

Funny Side Note: When Sarah and I first met John we both thought the same thing, ” wow he’s shorter than I thought he be.” He wasn’t super short, like he as taller than both Sarah and I. Still he was shorter than we had anticipated.

Dating in high school was so simple. Compared to dating as an adult, where you have discussions, share of each other’s emotional baggage and have an exchange of traits. Adult dating is like watching a National Geographic mating video, The Mating rituals of the Savannah” Where you watch a very bloody mating display of lion and you’re like “I want none of that.” So you go drink wine in your sweats and hang out on Tumblr.

But high school was easy. “Will you be my girl?” “Yes.” Done.

Like how it states in my title: My First Time

Johnny was my first time. I think I was 17 years old. Johnny was 17 too and only a few weeks older than me. A Taurus, I’m a Gemini.

Note: I don’t believe in horoscope in any way. I’m not laying out stones on my body or painting my body with symbols. I just the ironic description of horoscope and I believe it’s a simple/basic profile of someones personality and most people from all over understand horoscopes so there. 

We had sex. It was fine. Johnny had sex with his girlfriend before me, who moved away he claimed. I had never had sex and I was the first one out of the majority of people I knew to have sex. In his bedroom, with the TV night movie special, Catch me if you can. Surrounded by superheroes and a childhood still being played out. The moment you realize this is a stepping into who you will become, but as a young kid it’s a different thought than it is looking back on the moment.

The moment you realize this is a stepping into who you will become, but as a young kid it’s a different stepping stone you think about. As an adult you think about all the baggage it created and as a teenager it was “I’m fucking having sex!”

Did I want to have sex? Yes and No. Was I a bit hesitate? Yes. Did he push me a little bit to have sex. Oh yeah. Does this thought make me a bit uneasy as an adult? Of course.

Johnny was the first in a long line of guys I gave myself to. Gave up my body to and trying to become the definition of pleasure. I would win love through sex I thought and this only intensified after how our relationship ended.

Johnny had this long lost love for years. Some girl he just only loved but she never loved him back, until one day she did. At the end of our relationship from what I was told they started seeing each other, very intimately.

Johnny was a loser. He would go on to say this other girl was his “Jenny” and he was “Forrest Gump.”


This is how we would end. Through a terrible movie analogy.

Months afterward we would meet up again to chat.

I was still into him (but dating a friend of his) And he knew I still was into him and used this to his advantage. (We also hooked up a few times when we were both single throughout the months of fall) But one day a few weeks when I was dating one his friends we met up. Which just turned into me pointing out I knew he slept with her when we were still together and him asking me why I was seeing his friend.

And this moment I will never forget:

Johnny then told me ” no one will ever love you. No one will ever want to marry you.”

I know this is not true. But how would you feel, at 18 years old, from the first guy you had sex with? It was heart breaking for many years. Sometimes I think back to this conversation and wonder if he cursed me somehow because here I am single at 25.

Years Later

We wouldn’t talk for a long time after that conversation. Then, because he had a hold on me for the longest time. That silent sexual energy, that enegry you get from having sex and loving them. I had also just had a very awful break up with my boyfriend I had been with for four years. John was smart and he prayed on my recent break up. But our conversations and talk all ended one day when he was hitting on me via text.

John: “What did you do on your Saturday night?”

Me: “Oh just spent time with friends, went to the bars and danced. You?”

John: Oh not much, just went out, danced, did some nose candy…”

Nose Candy…? NOSE CANDY! Out of all the slang, lingo, short talk he picked NOSE CANDY! How about you just say I did some blow, or I don’t know I did cocaine. Good old cocaine

Also, John was well aware that drugs are not the way to my heart. At 25 years old I haven’t even smoked a cigarette or smoked pot. If you want to, cool. I’ve never been interested in any of it. It’s like coconut. Some people love it and some people don’t. Or like Anal.

So after this very weird text message it kind of hit me how much this guy had really hurt me, used me and was a loser. So I told him to leave me alone (Because he was also notorious for sneaking his way back into my life)

And now I call him Mr. Nose Candy.

Mr. Nose Candy would forever set in motion how I felt about my body and he was the first trip down the stairs, the first roll of the snowball effect, the one I looked back on when someone left me. When I felt like my body, my sex wasn’t enough to keep a man.

My relationship with John would be the knife in my back I would feel after numerous boyfriends cheated on me.

John was the first.

So how do I think about my first time now? I think about a bird molting.

 That’s the image in my mind.

A bird losing its wings.