It has been close to thirty years since our relationship came to an end, brought on by her parents whisking her off to New England and her finding herself in a new environment which suddenly didn't require me. The friendship hung on for years via occasional letters, but at every step of the way, I fell further into some sort of depression, losing any ability to form a normal relationship with the other young ladies I might try to date. I was a mess and I'm not so sure she had a clue. I had at least one alcohol fueled mental breakdown of sorts that had friends of mine extremely concerned and thankfully smart enough to take my car keys away from me and get me home to sleep it off. Later, I spent hours and hours at a time, alone in my dorm room writing and re-writing a letter to my parents explaining that I just could not get over the painful break-up, and this was why I was taking my own life.
To this day (and including the last few nights) I often have dreams where as adults, she and I talk about this. Actually, in my dreams I want to talk about it, but every single time, I simply fall in love again, and as she tries to distract my attention with stories of her kids and questions about mine, I can't seem to get to the conversation of how she did more than break my heart, but she literally changed my life, and my ability to love.
So how did I get here? I have actually written about this girl a few times before in The Sound of a Voice, and Married and Bi. But I wanted to go a little deeper. And if you don't feel like reading the other posts, I tend to recap anyway.
For me, it was love at first sight. She was a friend of friends, a grade behind me in high school and I recall the first time I saw her sitting in the gym during some sort of freshman orientation. I told one of my buddies that I was going to fuck her and that she was going to be my girlfriend.
Our romance included a promise ring, matching T-shirts, incredibly fun times and lots, and lots of incredible sex. I think I've written about this before, but I am reminded of the scene in the movie Summer Rental where John Candy says to someone, "Do you know what it's like to peak at 16?" Well, I know that feeling. In spite of all of the freaky things I've done in my adult sex life, nothing will ever match the passion and feeling of something being so right the way that we did. We learned so much together, she was the first person I ever went down on and it even comes with a funny story that I'm sure would make her laugh if I mentioned it to her.
There was something in me that was just driving me to want to go down on her. It was a natural instinct, I believe, and her scent just drew me in. On two or three occasions, I would be kissing her stomach and moving my lips further down and then for some reason, I would chicken out. We did not discuss it, but she knew what I was trying to do. Finally, one evening we were parked in our usual spot at a Little League baseball complex and we were nude in the back seat when I found myself mentally prepared enough to make it happen. Not unlike the first time I tasted my own cum, I just took a deep breath and did it. I took the plunge and in an instant, my face was buried in her perfectly trimmed bush and just as quickly my face was back up and staring at her with a look of shock on my face. "I wish you had told me you were going to do that," she said shyly, "I would have told you I'm on my period." I guess you could say I almost earned my red wings that night, but we decided we could try oral another time.
And when we did, I must tell you with all honesty, it was wonderful. The actual intercourse for me was never the highlight of our lovemaking, it was going down on her. She produced so much fluid that when she would take a position on top of me, my face and neck and chest would be soaked in her juice. For the life of me, my parents had to have noticed when I would come home from a date because without a shower, there is no way I wasn't just wreaking of pussy.
There was more than just sex. She was funny and we would have goofy little conversations and we would hang out together just doing things. We would skip school and take off to the beach - she looked magnificent on a bathing suit - and we would talk about what life would be like, not if we got married, but when. As adults we all recognize that people in high school often have that first real love and from our standpoint, we can look back at our own lives and see that in spite of how perfect a fit at the time, people grow differently and often, those relationships don't last beyond a few years. People go off to different colleges and meet a new set of friends and their personalities change. This is really what took place when she moved from Florida to Massachusetts. She was thrust into a totally different environment, new people, a new school. There were no cell phones, no Internet, nothing but letters and weekly 20 minute phone calls. I was falling apart as the girl I loved was drifting away into another world.
When we made it official - that is, when she told me that I was still her best friend in the world but she wanted to be honest about the fact that she was going to date other people, I thought the first thing I needed to do was get a replacement girlfriend. I was a complete asshole.
I'll never forget the first girl I took out in an effort to start something new. I don't even recall how we met - maybe she worked with me - but I recall going to pick her up at her house and meeting her parents. Like an image from a bad movie, these people were sitting in their living room dressed up like HeeHaw, on their way out for a night of Square Dancing. I have no recollection of our date, per se, aside from ending up at the Little League park where I intended to commence fucking. This poor girl probably used me as an example for her daughters on how to spot a complete jerk. I recall standing outside with her with leaning up against the hood of my Camaro. I went in for the kiss and once she gently returned the kiss, I was ready to strip down and do her on the hood of the car. That wouldn't be the worst of it. Of course, she pushed me a way and said she needed to get to know me better. How did I counter that? I told her that I had just come from a relationship where we had sex everyday and often multiple times a day, and that the only way this new relationship would work is if she started putting out. I want to say she laughed at me, but in reality, I think she started to cry. Obviously, I took her home right away and that was the end of that.
I realized that I was a mess. I did the only thing one can do in matters like this, and I joined the military so I could be gone from the town that had me trapped in a relationship that didn't exist. Because I had a cool car and because I just didn't care, I had sex with a few random women I met in town before it was time to go off to Basic Training. I would feel so guilty for not being in love with them and for really being a jerk.
I recall this Puerto Rican chick who pursued me and finally convinced me to take her for a ride in my car. She had these huge, balloon like tits that just felt so mushy they actually turned me off. I fucked her on the picnic table of a park near my house, then took her to someplace near her house and dropped her off at her request - probably because she didn't want me to know exactly where she lived. There was no satisfaction in this sort of sex for me.
It got worse. At the age of 18 and in tech school for the Air Force, I met a lady who was older than me. We were quite drunk and left the club to return to her dorm room. As I was going down on her, she started to feel the affects of the alcohol and suddenly lost interest. I convinced her to go with it and we had a few minutes worth of sex before she ended up in the bathroom throwing up. The next morning I returned to pick up the jacket I had forgotten the previous night and her room mate answered the door and yelled at me for taking advantage of her. This was long before we used terms like date-rape, but at the time, I recall being totally shocked at the way I was being accused of ungentlemanly behavior. I was actually quite hurt and we never crossed paths again. Later in life when slogans such as No Means No and the term Date-Rape became common discussion points in the military and society in general, I always wondered if that situation applied.
Regardless, what I learned was that I did not have any real respect for women, and further, there was no chance of me loving anyone but my girlfriend from high school. For the next several years, I would try to imagine every female co-worker or acquaintance as a potential mate. I had some really weird attempts at relationships that never involved friendship. I had a few relationships with girls who were clearly seeing other guys and they didn't hide the fact. In one situation, a girl I was fucking loved to leave my room after we had sex and then go see her regular boyfriend. I had never even heard the term Cuckold and just assumed that her boyfriend was oblivious to the fact that I had just left a load in his girl. I had anther fuck buddy/girlfriend who once told me I needed to leave her room quickly because a mutual friend/co-worker of ours was coming down to spend the night with her. I just got up and left without as much as a second thought.
All during this really confusing time in my life, still 18 or maybe 19, I was falling deeper into depression. I only kept going due to the fact that I had a fast paced job and worked these rotating shifts that caused people to drink and sleep a lot, and then start the whole work schedule again.
I was also trying to understand the feelings that I had experienced throughout my youth, this urge to experiment with guys. The thought of talking about any of my feelings - the depression, the feeling of emptiness over the old girlfriend, and the fact that I had these urges that at the time were cause to be thrown out of the military - were simply buried.
Looking back this many years later, I think I had resigned myself to a few facts. I would never find a meaningful relationship that could compare to the intense love and happiness I had with the girl from high school. I was possibly gay or at least bi. I was a mess. I also realized that I had had enough of living in the military dorms. By the time I left my first assignment, I had turned 21 and I just didn't feel like I could handle living with a roommate chosen by the military and I needed to move off base. Unfortunately, I also knew that it was the First Sergeant's decision, and it wasn't looking good.
To Be Continued...