More young and stupid

After the first few rocky years of living on our own me and JW finally seemed to settle into a somewhat normal routine.  Meaning I became super dependent and afraid of the world beyond our apartment and needed him to do everything and go everywhere with me.  Yes I was working but I would panic at the thought of going grocery shopping alone.  Yikes.  How many nights I sat on our bedroom floor and stared out the window waiting for him to come home.  I was a wreck, always on the verge of hysteria and miserably unhappy.   A few years of this and he decided we needed therapy.

So we went.  Within 15 minutes the therapist diagnosed and cured us.  Basically in a relationship we all need to have my life, your life and our life.  He had his and ours, I only had ours.  The cure?  Make friends.  Great.  Social retardism get outta my way,  I need to make friends!  I decided to pursue therapy on my own cause I clearly needed help.  The therapist convinced me to get on meds,  figured out all my childhood issues, made me feel lots less crazy and got me back on track. And miraculously I met a girl that worked at one of the stores I called on and we hit it off and guess the fuck what?? We became friends.

Her husband and JW got along great and we had a bunch of super fun couples nights out.  Amazing.  Her and I decided to lose some weight and we both did, started going out dancing, buying new clothes, talking on the phone, you know, being friends.  JW decided we should start planning our wedding(finally) and life seemed to be great.  Then shit hit the fan.  My new gf decided that since she was now thinner and sexy she should leave her husband for some hot muscle head and i got caught up in a frenzy of new men, new ideas and romance all while trying to plan our run-away wedding on Maui.   I was also thinner and sexy and my growing independence coupled with our work and school schedules was the beginning of the end.

Young and stupid love

JW was and probably still is a wonderful person, very kind, caring and loving and I’m sure that he is a great husband and father.  I will be unable to tell all of our stories but you’ll get the idea of how our relationship was.  This relationship made me the person I am today for better or worse and I don’t regret very many things. 

     I was 16 almost 17 and he was 17 almost 18. We worked at the retail store together and I’ll never forget the first time I saw him.  I was walking around, goofing off and he was at the front of his check stand waiting for customers.  His hair was long, his smile was amazing and even though he had bad skin I thought he was beautiful.  I made a total ass out of myself for the next few weeks trying to get his attention and finally the opportunity to hang out socially presented itself.  A few of us went out for dinner after work and I invited him to go with us.  We were practically inseparable after that night, even while I was still pregnant.  This is all before cell phones and there was no reliable way to get ahold of him unless he was at home which he never was.  In retrospect I should have seen the next few months as a sign of what was to come but I didn’t.

The first big deal was my prom.  He promised to take me and then disappeared for 3 days right before it so I had no idea if he was alive, taking me, had dinner arrangements, a car, anything.  I was pretty panicky and when he finally called me I freaked out. It was all arranged but really? Did you have to wait till the day of to let me know?  We spent a lot of time together over the summer and he surprised me by registering at my high school for his last semester.  He was supposed to graduate the year before but since his mom had moved them around so much a lot of credits were lost but he only had to take one semester and then got his diploma.  I like to blame this semester for finalizing my social retardism because he really became my whole world.  He pretty much moved in to my house, much to my parents dismay, and the few friends that I did have were abandoned and forgotten.  We graduated and moved to a town an hour away together and the real troubles began.  We both had a hard time finding jobs, we were broke, living in a dump but happy to be on our own.  It’s funny now looking back how much I thought I knew about life.  What an idiot.  I started school in the fall and got a job waiting tables at Perkins which was open all night.  I ended up with the 5pm -6am shift Fridays and Saturdays which was great for the money but rough on our relationship.   He would drive up to the town we came from and literally spend the entire night there sitting at a restaurant drinking coffee and hanging out with friends and for the next year we had the same fight EVERY weekend.  I didn’t understand what he did, who he was with, I heard stories about girls falling asleep in his lap, all kinds of shit and he would come home after me at 6am!  SERIOUSLY??!! I obviously cant compete with a bunch of fucking nerds drinking coffee all night and talking about the stupidest shit ever but seriously dude, beat me home.  I work a 13 hour shift and come home to an empty house.  So that was our first year on our own in a nutshell.  I threatened to leave a dozen times, had his shit packed and on the front balcony a few times, had my shit in the car then would sit waiting for him to come home so we could fight before I left and then never did leave. I decided that I wanted a ring (cause that would solve everything) so I bullied him into buying a beautiful little engagement ring and I wore it until I got mad then I would throw it at him.  Ahhh, true love…

The choice

In the later part of that summer before my junior year I was hanging out at the mall with my new bestie, ‘S’  and met an older man, ‘JJ’ and his friend.  He was 25 and soooo sexy oh my god I couldn’t stand it.  It didn’t even take any convincing or wooing, I just jumped right into his bed on our next meeting. Best sex yet!  He made my legs shake, my head spin, I may have blacked out at some point.  It would have been nice to cuddle after but he told me he had something to do so I needed to get dressed and go.  Being 16 I’m claiming to be clueless about the fact that he was using me.  Then he met me and my friends out for dinner one night a few weeks later and I just knew he was now my boyfriend.  So dreamy and romantic!   Too bad I noticed all the eye rolling and heavy sighs coming from his direction but chose to ignore it.  This night was our second sexual episode, unfortunately it had to happen in the back of my Subaru Wagon that we parked in the ball park lot.   I remember looking up at my legs and wondering why they were flashing blue and red… When the cops knocked on the window I had to crawl out the back to put my pants on and give them my id just so they could tell us to go somewhere else. And scold him for being so much older than me.  The awful end to this ‘romance’ is that I ended up pregnant.  3 weeks into junior year.  OH SHIT.  Of course he claimed to be sterile and therefore it couldn’t possibly be his.  He broke up with me (well really just stopped answering the phone and ignoring me) leaving me heartbroken, faced with making a choice and dealing with my parents when I had to tell them about it.  As funny as life is this is the exact time that I then met THE ONE.  His name was also JW and he was so cute and we fell madly in love immediately and I was devastated when I had to tell him after 2 weeks of loving bliss that I was carrying some asshole’s baby.  He was super great about it and even bought me saltine crackers, bags of lemons and cans of Dr Pepper which was all I wanted to eat and drink.  Between my parents freaking out, my awful morning sickness, driving all the way across town in many futile attempts to get money from the a-hole father and JW loving me anyway it was an awful and confusing few weeks until I could get it taken care of.  I had always considered myself pro life until this happened.  I guess its hypocritical but until it’s you and your life and family and future that’s affected  it’s really hard to understand the choices and the repercussions.  Since then and in many aspects of life I don’t think anyone has the right to tell another person what’s right or wrong or how to feel about some situations.

The ‘after losing it’ years

     After the neighbor de-virginizer and his family moved away, through the rest of middle school and the first couple years of high school there were hot boys, ugly boys, total assholes, super nice boys, all sorts of boys (10 to be exact)  that made their fumbly way under my shirt and into my pants.  Some while under the influence of cheap marijuana or gross liquor and a couple totally sober and under the spell of teenage love.   Almost all were in the presence of my best friend,  ‘A’  who also had a constant stream of boys in and around her pants.  One especially memorable time she and her boyfriend were upstairs while me and my hookup of the week were downstairs, he was still pounding away at me when they came downstairs to interrupt, talk about humiliating.  He took off the condom and flung it across the room at them as they walked in, of course he missed them and it hit the wall and spilled stuff all over the wall.  Guess who got to pull her panties up and clean that mess?  This girl.   Another special time was when one of them decided to tell me how much he loved ‘A’ right after we had awkward uncomfortable sex.  Great.  A particularly scary situation had me making out outside a movie theater while my parents were out of town and my auntie was having a panic attack trying to find me.   While still in catholic school hell I got caught giving a friends hottie neighbor a blow job and had to write my mom a note to tell her about it.  Surprisingly,  that didn’t go to well, and after she was done throwing a shit fit she made me go in for my first female exam at 14 and somehow the whole school found out about it.  Added to the list of why I hated catholic school.

My freshman year in high school brought me back to a public school and normal people which was good.  I actually made real friends with kids that liked me for who I was and enjoyed school for the first time.  All good things come to an end though and 3 months into my freshman year we moved out to the country and back into a small school where I was once again outcast.

      Early in my sophomore year the hottest freshman and I started dating, I don’t think we ever had sex , really we just rode around in the back seat of his sisters station wagon making out and smoking a ridiculous amount of weed, but that didn’t stop me from obsessing about him for the rest of the year after our month of love.  No reason for the ending was ever given, he just stopped talking to me and avoided me in the halls.   Later my sophomore year I got hired at a big name retail store in the next town over and being so smart I quickly worked my way out of the cashier stand and onto the sales floor where I spent the next 2 years selling paint and DIY supplies, electronics and sporting goods.  One of the many crushes I quickly developed was with JW.  A much older(27) man with a bitchin car and smooth lines.  Of course I was in love instantly.  We spent hours at his house in the boonies drinking budweiser cans and flirting and eventually kissing and touching.  I think we are on the fast track to eternal bliss until I find out he asked another girl, my friend, out on a date.  I was so confused and hurt and tried so hard not to show it.  An early indication of my social awkwardness because I had no emotional tools or knowledge of how to deal with this.  My friendship with the girl was over and the heartache was unbearable until she moved away for collage and months later he was able to talk to me without being weird. Once again we never had sex but the memories and feelings affected me profoundly.  This is one of the first times I remember the distinct feeling of not being enough.  Not cute enough, smart enough, witty, funny, clever, thin, interesting… my list of  ‘not enoughs’  goes on and on and is still in effect today. 

Losing it the hard way

When I was 12 years old which is 6^th grade(I think) some new neighbors moved in across the street. OMG!  The cutest boy I ever saw appeared and I was instantly smitten.  His name was ‘EB’, he was 16, he had this beautiful tanned Puerto Rican skin and big lips and long hair and big brown eyes and I loved him.  He was in trouble within days and got carted off to juvenile detention center for a few days which made him dangerous and even sexier.  After lots of fumbling around trying to impress him he finally starts paying attention to me,  much to my moms dismay but she didn’t do anything to keep me away from him so I spent as much time as I could at their house.  Their mom worked all the time so they had no rules so even better.  My first kiss, first French kiss and first ‘finger fuck’ were all at the same time, in the spring.  I could kiss him for hours, I just remember it being the best thing ever and he always tasted like pickles.   I brought a prissy girl from school over and he made a game of blindfolding himself and us taking turns kissing him and he would guess who it was. It seemed perfectly normal to me but she wasn’t interested in playing so I kept kissing him and he kept telling me to stop so she would kiss him.  I didn’t like it at all when she finally did but she freaked out (like a 12 year old should) and we left.  She tried to tell me he was bad news but what the fuck did she know stupid catholic school girl? 

Since me and ‘E’ were kissing friends he decided to kick it up a notch.  Every time

The early years continued, jeez I hated Catholic school!

In school I never really had girlfriends, just boys and I have only vague memories of a few of them and thoughts of being chased around the playground.  One especially humiliating incident comes to mind though and while not specifically sexual in nature it was humiliation in front of the boy I was totally in love with… We used to swing as high as would could get and jump off at the highest point.  This particular time I let go too late or too early or wrong and arms and legs flailing I landed face first into my ‘loves’ lap.  My pride was hurt even worse than my badly sprained ankle and I don’t think that boy ever played with me again.

After 3^rd grade I had to change schools to a private Catholic school.  I’m not sure I’d ever been to church much less a stuffy Catholic one and all the other kids had been going there since kindergarten. I got into major trouble every year there, the first was not being properly dressed for “ dress up day” so my bitch nun teacher made me sobbingly call my mom to come get me.  The next year was 4^th grade and I got contacts so I put a little eye make-up on to cover up how goofy looking I felt with out glasses and that bitch nun called me out in the middle of roll call in front of everyone and made me go wash my face.  5^th grade was the skull and lightning bolt earrings that the nun didn’t like so she yelled at me down the hallway, then I got into carving names into peoples skin with a razor blade, then it was standing at the fence and waving to all the hot boys that drove past the school during lunch break… It was a rough transition and to cope I became even closer to my friend from across the street, ‘A’.  She actually lived about 25 minutes away with her mom and stepdad but spent a lot of time at her grandmas.  She was definitely a free spirit and her mom was a total alcoholic so she didn’t have any rules so as I got older I spent more and more time at her house getting into all kinds of shit, but we’ll get to that a little later.  I had huge crushes on a few boys, they never paid any attention to me whatsoever, looking back I developed a pretty gnarly social awkwardness there that still haunts me today.  I just remember wanting to know how a few of those boys kissed and what it would be like to hug them and hold hands at lunch time and have a skating partner for the monthly Skate City parties we had.  I left quite a few of those events in hysterical sobs because none of them would skate with me.  None of the other girls seemed to really care or notice if they didn’t get asked, it seems my sexual energy was running rampant even then.  Its enough to say that Catholic school and I did not get along.

Waaay too early years….8ish to 12 part 1

The neighborhood boys I grew up with were both from disturbed, unstable at best home lives as well and I became a total tomboy because we were the only kids on the block and wanted to play.   Occasionally I would get them to play HE-MAN SHE-RA with me but usually we would run around and play and climb and hide and seek and normal kid stuff.  I never really liked Z all that much cause he was a crybaby whiner but I loved A.  We spent the most time together anyway since Z split his time between his moms house and his dads who lived down the street.   I have no idea how old we were when A and I first decided to figure out where his “parts” were supposed to go in relation to my “parts” but we tried a few times to figure it out. We had an idea but couldn’t quite make it do anything.   We gave up not ever having solved the mystery but that was my first sexual experience…

Not long after that I finally made friends with the girl (A -she’s an important player in my history) whose grandma lived across the street and babysat me.  I spent a lot of time at that house being made fun of and getting picked on for stuff I had no control over.  Anyway this girl had an older brother and a couple older cousins that would always be around the house.  They had the best toys and fun places to play with them, we all loved these ugly chimpanzee dolls that we constantly felt the need to make do inappropriate things to each other and sometimes to us.   We would take them into the RV and play for hours…then the cousin would come in and have us undo our pants so he could touch us or we could touch each other.  One time we were outside under a table with our zippers down and another cousin( a girl) caught us and we got in trouble for it but no one ever knew what else happened.  While nothing REALLY happened it has stuck in my mind to this day as an embarrassing situation.

Some other random things happened that didn’t really affect me but as I write about them I can see how my perspective on some things got a little skewed… there was the older black man who got in line behind us at the grocery store and while mom is occupied he rubs his hand across my behind.  I look back at him to see if it was an accident and it most definitely was not.  He looked at me with at smile/smirk and winked.  I turned back to look forward and he did it again.  The construction guys who watched me pour my slurpee and pick out candy at 7-11, the guys at my auntie’s summer party who wanted to ‘take a walk”,  the bar fly at the neighborhood bar that taught me how to shoot pool and found ways to stand behind me while I shot,  the hot older guys that drove the orange car down the street that invited me over all the time, and on and on…

Let the stories begin…

Growing up in the environment that I did I slipped through the cracks sometimes and other times I got busted big time. I knew from very early on that I attracted a lot of sexual attention, from the creeps in the neighborhood, the boys I grew up with, the older cousins of friends, pretty much everyone.  At some point my mom recognized this too and made some comment about noticing how guys look at me.  Too bad the recognition and conversation stopped there.

I recently had yet another awful sexual encounter and as I was adding this name to my “LIST”  I started looking over the whole thing and realized that over 75% of the names represented awful, humiliating, drunken or somehow really terrible sexual encounters.  Most were one nighters, some on purpose, some my choice, most not, some I thought I was immediately in love with, some I continue to pine over years later.  As I went about my day I couldn’t shake the thought that I have so many humiliating stories I should write them down.  Some of these stories I can barely stand to think about much less write them down for anyone else to know about but I figure that if someone else can learn from my mistakes or even feel not so alone in their fuckupedness it will be worth the horrifying reality of these encounters.  Or maybe just get a chuckle out of some terrible, funny, ridiculous shit.

I’ve tried a few variations of how to write this but I decided that I would start with chronological events and then get into a series of short stories.  After a certain age it doesn’t really matter but the young stories are age important.  I decided to use only initials instead of names because its not my intention to get anyone in trouble or call attention to any inappropriate action to hurt anyone.  Some names I don’t remember completely and lots of last names I never bothered to get. Also please know that I’m not racist in any way but lets be honest, some stereotypes are in place for a reason so if an ethnicity is mentioned its only as a point of reference or perspective.  

And it begins, my introduction to me….

As I was waiting for the laughter and horrified looks of my girlfriends to subside resulting from my latest ridiculously unbelievable “single girl” story I had a thought that I can’s seem to shake.  It occurred to me that maybe sharing my stories with the world might be beneficial in lots of ways.  Maybe it would help me put my past and future relationships into better perspective?  Maybe if men read it they would gain some new insight on how a woman thinks?  Certainly it will bring out some emotions we all have, from hysterical laughter, complete humiliation,  joy, sadness, feelings of total inadequacy to everyone’s attempts at being comfortable in your own skin.  Most importantly though if I could make just one woman feel not so alone in her sexual situations it would be totally worth publishing my confessions.   

A little about me.  I’m in my mid 30’s, single white(ish) girl from a small town in Colorado.  My childhood is similar to millions of other people, alcoholic dad, depressed and distracted mom, younger sister that could do no wrong, blah blah blah.  I don’t blame my choices on any of that, as much as I’d like to but have decided to take responsibility for my life.  This blog is the first step in making that a reality.  All these stories and people I will share with you have made me who I am, for better or worse and I’m trying not to regret any of them!   My plan is to write a few times a week and share a story or two,  I’m not sure if it will be chronological or if I’ll jump around but be sure, it will be entertaining, or offensive, or humiliating every time.