Love is a complicated thing. Like really. It makes you do silly things. Sometimes very stupid things. But the worst part is how it makes you feel. That has to be the part that does the most damage. This is a story of my ex-girlfriend. And why I am unable to forgive her, even though I love her still.
I love that woman. That is the one thing I can never lie about. I may not always show her that I do. But deep down I really do. And for the longest time I dreamt I would marry my high school sweetheart. Many dudes make fun of me during our drunk nights out. Why would anyone want to marry a girl from the past? At the end of the conversation the question is why I am not with her already? Why should I always dominate the most honest and non-judgemental platform the guys get to share their feelings on, and never have my issues resolved for years?
It starts with the excuse I always give. When many ask why I am not with her already, I always lie and say that she cheated on me. Well, the cheating part is true, but it is not why I am not with her. She did cheat on me once, or twice. I just cannot prove the second time. And the lack of proof drives me crazy. I only have my gut feeling to back me up. But I do not blame her for the cheating. I honestly do not. I mean, when people are together for 7 years and spend almost every other 6 months on separation what do you expect? I have cheated on her too. So it is the price karma puts on your ego for being an asshole. As painful as it is, I have no qualms with her getting some side dick. Chances are she knew I went out to get side pussy myself. And the little knowledge I have of women suggests they cheat mostly as an act of revenge. So that could be her justification.
But I am mad at her. For something that happened way before we started scoping the open market for genital alternatives. Way before lost our innocence. Well not way before, but before we both lost our innocence.
The supposed first time
I remember the first time we agreed to have sex. It was a conscious decision. One that took a lot of effort from me to make. I had loved this girl for about 2 years and had never gathered enough courage to ask her to open her legs for me. We had started dating when we were both 14 year old virgins. So both of us had a great first experience ahead of us.
If J. Cole’s 2014 Forest Hills Drive was out then, wet dreams would be the theme song for that week. I spent the whole week researching on how to pleasure a woman. A horny 16 year old boy wanting to get some pussy. How to eat the cake, how to stroke right and where to turn on the heat to make her come. The biggest of my look ups was on how to have sex with a virgin. I knew from many stories I heard that it may be painful for a girl’s first time. And the biggest was that she would bleed. Thanks to the naughty single mother we had for a neighbour, the part of being gentle to a virgin was taken care of! I was armed with erection and ready.
She came over. It was a Saturday. I was nervous as hell. But I had everything prepared. I was mentally prepared too. We were both very nervous. I remember we failed to have a normal conversation. I was trying really hard to act cool. So hard I looked retarded. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally let the passion take over. I am not even going to attempt to relive the events of that day. It makes me too sad to think about it. What I remember very clearly is that she did not bleed. And she did not at all seem fazed by her “first time”. As I was walking her home, I asked if she was a virgin before we consumated. She did not reply, but she kissed me and gave me a huge hug. I knew not to ask further.
But it bothered me, for the longest time. The next few years of our relationship were no fun. We had sex many other times after that. But I never enjoyed any of it. She was not a virgin the first time we made love. I don’t know why, but this hurt me so much. We had dated from our early teens, and she was not really mine.
I confronted her finally, when my head was off the liquor obviously. We went back and forth for a while, with her insisting she did not want to talk about it. She finally opened up. She told me she had been “raped” by the friend to her sister’s boyfriend. She detailed the story. Told of how they had come over to their house to chill. She narrated how the sister and her boyfriend had gone to her bedroom. And she was left with this mystery friend. She says it started out as an innocent tickling game which ended up with her legs wide open and being penetrated out of her will. I asked what her sister had done after this happened, and her answer was rather unconvincing. She showed no pain as she told her story.
I don’t know if I perceived it this way this because I was angry or because I was hurt. Or if I am just an apathetic asshole. I cannot explain why, but this hurt me so bad. I failed to talk to her for a long while. I did not believe her, and I still do not. She gave her cherry to someone else. I do not know why this hurts me so bad. But it does. And every time we talk, all I see is a girl who betrayed my love. As open minded as I am. As understanding as I am. I fail to come to terms with this “her decision”. It is her virginity alright, and she could give it to whomever she pleases. But I am hurt it was not me.