The closest we got was making out when I was half drunk and in his car. I’m glad that’s the farthest we ever went.
I really don’t have much to say about Brad and I almost thought why should I even mention him? I mean there’s probably five or so other guys I will never write about because they didn’t teach me any lessons, or remind me who I really am or what I don’t want. Brad did teach me in a weird way. Or more he reminded me what I didn’t want. Brad was two steps back from the direction I was going in my life.
He’s about two years younger than me.
I hope people don’t take that the wrong way. I know I continually mention the guys I’ve seen as younger and actually all of my serious relationships they were all at least two -three years younger than me. I rarely meet someone I like whose older.
But dating younger guys has taught me I can’t date someone younger than me. (No offense) but I’ve gone through plenty of guys to learn that younger doesn’t work for me anymore. Younger guys don’t have realistic goals, they are still trying to figure themselves out (I mean aren’t we all?) But at 22 it’s a different kind of figuring yourself out than 27 or older. 22 figuring self out: Should I go to that rave? What should I wear to the bar on Tuesday night? Should I take that drug? Should I work or sleep another three hours? Why can’t she like me?
So no younger guys for me, because there’s no stimulating conversation and before you get your feathers ruffled because you disagree…well maybe I am wrong. But all the guys I’ve dated who are younger than me don’t read. So in my case study I’ve concluded nothing good can come from dating younger guys.
And the sex tends to be one-sided.(More me, less me).
Back to Brad
He reminded me a bit of my ex who cheated on me. About the same height as him, same humor and the lack of caring for school. Just kind of going with the flow attitude. Brad had just gotten back from the army and was a young guy who was depressed. He tended to sit in his house and drink. Also, my friend Max was always trying to set Brad up with his friends. Brad was cute, but I don’t think he was something to write home about. His beard was always a bit messy. There’s nothing worse than a messy beard. I’ll never forget the time my friend Brianne (who almost dated him) said, “I saw Brad after the bars and he was walking and threw up and kept walking like it was nothing. There is something not right about someone who can just throw up without it affecting them. Even that drunk.”
I did kiss him one night after he dropped me off from the bars. That’s about it.
No, we didn’t have sex. A weird set of events lead to why we didn’t have sex. Around this time I had set into my emotional, trust and sex issues. Sex was the last thing I wanted to get back into. And he told Max I wasn’t the kind of girl you just sleep with. I guess he was going through a hook-up phase. I don’t know if this was a compliment from him or not.
I’m glad nothing happened between us. It would have never gone any farther than sex. And I’m sure the sex wouldn’t have been that wonderful. Because there was no heat or energy in the kissing. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but it wasn’t a great kiss.
He would have just been two steps back into my old self. I don’t mind my old self. I just don’t want to be her anymore. She was always in so much pain and slept with anyone to make the loneliness go away.
When you’re finally ready to heal, you take the band-aid off the gunshot wound, take out the bullet and stitch your skin back together and wait for it to heal.