9:10 p.m. - 08 March 2003
V is for Virgin
V is for Virgin
I had barely turned 16 when I lost my virginity. It was to a guy whom I had been head-over-heels in love with for almost a year, but who was not in love with me. It was also a huge mistake, since I wasn't anywhere near as ready as I thought I was, and I did it for all the wrong reasons: namely, because I was curious and because I thought it would make him stay. It didn't, of course.
He was in the class ahead of me, but we had the same English class due to a series of quirks in both our schedules. Much later, he told me once that he thought I was beautiful the first time he saw me, which was flattering beyond belief. It didn't hurt that I found him incredibly attractive, as well, and we struck up a friendship almost immediately.
It was a very turbulent year for me; through a variety of methods, I skipped my sophomore year in high school and did I mention that we had only moved to Georgetown right before my freshman year? so I was starting over again. Looking back, I think now I was battling some low-level depression, but mostly I was just sad. He helped me with some of that, but he was an outcast, too, so neither one of us really fit in at all. It wasn't long until the crush had blossomed into something a lot deeper for me.
He never felt the same about me as I did about him. I tried everything I knew much of it juvenile and stupid to try to make him feel the same. Nothing worked, even though I knew he did care about me quite a bit. We had discussed having sex a couple of times and nearly would have once, except my dad came home while we were both undressed but I think he knew that it would be bad on a colossal scale. Did I mention that he actually had a girlfriend who lived a couple of hours away for much of the year? But I so longed for attention from a guy that I just sort of brushed it aside.
Thinking back, I'm amazed that he stayed friends with me at all. I was actually a bit of a stalker: I called his house all the damn time, I drove past it whenever possible (it was easy to go past it without really going out of the way), I wrote him letters and poems; in short, I was Glenn Close waiting to happen. I know that some of this stuff bothered him, but I think he was flattered by all the attention, too.
I was away for most of the summer at various camps and whatnot, so we didn't see much of each other. Not that it stopped my creepiness, actually I still wrote and called when I could. Shortly after I got home, he showed up at my door one Saturday afternoon and told me to tell my parents we were going to the mall, which was 45 minutes away. He was barefoot, so I knew that wasn't where we were going. He took me to his house, and I dont think I'll elaborate any further.
I now suspect that he was lonely, horny, and just wanted to get laid and knew that I would jump at the opportunity. I know that we had a huge fight not long afterwards, and I yelled at him for treating me like another notch on the bedpost, and he left for college not long afterwards. He never wrote to me, which hurt, and we drifted apart. I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to remain friends even though I started seeing Lee not long after I graduated from high school. He was actually a point of contention between Lee and I for a long time; we broke up for a while because I asked him to accompany me to the Winter Ball that first year at Converse, and Lee thought I'd go back to him in a skinny minute even though he'd told me by then that he was gay.
Actually, the Winter Ball was a huge fiasco he wasn't feeling well, but came up anyway. He was very late, though, and since him not showing up was preventing a whole group of people from going to dinner, I went on with them. I found out later that he did indeed show up while I was gone, but didn't stick around to wait for me to come back. Needless to say, he was pretty pissed when I tried to talk to him on the phone last night. I was hurt, Lee had just broken up with me, and I wrote an ill-advised letter letting him know in no uncertain terms just how tired I was of the bullshit he'd pulled over the last two years.
The letter I received in return was one of the most hate-filled documents I've ever seen. It arrived, of course, right in the middle of finals. My friends from Converse can tell you how devastated I was I ended up rescheduling a couple of exams because I spent that entire afternoon sobbing. I still have it, actually, and occasionally I get it out and read it. Partly because it's the only thing I still have of his, and partly because there was a lot of truth in it, too. I didn't see that at the time, but I can now.
We havent been in contact since. I have no idea where he is or what he's doing. I don't even know if his parents still live in Georgetown, though I suspect so. I think of him on occasion rare occasion and hope he's happy. Even though losing my virginity to him was a huge mistake, it's not one that I regret. I wouldn't be who I am now if I hadn't.
This has been an entry for AlphaBytes. I'm working my way through the alphabet backwards just because I can.
