modernsex

I dated a sweet boy named Randy for a little while.  He played guitar.  As a symbol of affection, I wore one of his guitar picks on a chain around my neck.  He was sensitive and kind.  After an all-night phone call he skateboarded to the store before school to pick me up the peaches I had mentioned craving in passing.  On Valentines day he got me a giant white teddy in spite of me asking him not to make a big deal of it.  I’d worn one of my black outfits that day.  Bad move, I was covered in the hair for ages.  I couldn’t help smiling.  I felt safe with him.  Happy.  My dirty side was quelled and quieted.  As a matter of fact, it pretty much went away entirely when I was with him.  I was happy to talk about backyard wrestling and 311.  For some reason I not only didn’t feel the desire to kiss him, I almost didn’t want to.  I still don’t know why that is.  It felt wrong.  He made me happy, but he didn’t move me.  I still feel guilt for the whole situation.  He deserved better.  He deserved honesty.

I ended up meeting a weasley little shit who claimed to be related to Pauly Shore.  He was funny.  He was a pervert.  He was inferior.  But for some reason I adored making out with him.  I dared to sit on his lap and allow him to fondle me over my clothes.  I’d meet him between classes for extra kissing.  I couldn’t find a good reason to break up with Randy, and wasn’t too interested in actually dating the other guy.  You know, I can’t even really remember his name.  Natasha will remember.  Anyway, as I was figuring out what to do about the crappy situation I’d put myself in the choice was taken from me.  Someone who worked with Randy had seen my infidelity and let him know.  I got a long break-up letter that made me feel like the scum I was.  The lyrics to ‘Good Riddance’ by Green Day were written on the back.  To this day that song reminds me of what I did.

I did end up seeing Weasle briefly.  He made up some excuse about a dead ex and prophetic dreams to break up with me.  He thought he had a chance at actually sleeping with someone.  As lame as it was, at least he had the decency to break up with me first.  No hard feelings.  I was feeling too guilty over Randy to properly enjoy it, anyway.  I saw Randy years later at a gas station.  He was cold and distant.  I wanted to apologize again, to tell him I had changed.  Let him know I wished him well.  I really hope he’s got someone good.  Instead I made awkward small talk and left as quickly as I could.  The time had passed.

I never wanted to do that to anyone again.  Cheating was a bad, bad thing that I didn’t want to deal with again.  I felt like a horrible person.  I was a horrible person.  But it was another good learning experience.  I found out being happy and nonsexual felt as incomplete and unsatisfying as being sexual and unromantic.  I wanted both.  I didn’t know if that was even possible.  Sex was still a dirty thing.

Didn’t help that a random senior decided that my holding hands with him to our key club meeting indicated I wanted to get dirty with him.  He made moves up against the lockers that went way too fast.  From zero to sixty in the middle of the school!  Jerk.  I pushed him away and cut him from my list of aquantainces.

I didn’t know what to do.  I wanted intimacy.  But I couldn’t have it with friends, I couldn’t have it with near strangers, and I couldn’t even manage with actual boyfriends.  I was unhappy with myself.  Of course that was part of the problem, but I didn’t know it yet.

Have you ever hurt someone?  Was it a one time thing or are you a heart-breaker?