This is the third installment of my Pity Party series diving into my past trauma. As with the other posts, this will have subject matter that may not be suitable for all audiences, blanket trigger warning!
Allow me go over some of my more formative romantic experiences.
Back up to when I was 13, after I got beat up by my friends for getting fingerbanged by that guy in my apartment complex. I had started seeing a boy who I met at the pool on base. Cheeze was funny, athletic, and open-minded, mixed and very confident. He wasn’t at all shy and very forward with his affection with me and I enjoyed it immensely in the privacy of his bedroom. I would bike 12 miles one way to hang out with him and his younger sister while our parents were working.
We’d make out and enjoy touching each other. One day we were undressed and teetering on the brink of decision. Do we try to do more? I was so nervous but I thought it would be fun and I really liked how much it made my heart beat so furiously. He positioned himself over me on his bed, and pressed the head of his cock to my lips. He waited for me to give him the go ahead to try and insert himself.
When he found my vaginal opening and I felt the weight of him pressing against me, the feeling of his member trying to penetrate me, fearing how much it might hurt, I panicked. Cheeze backed off and we sat together in silence, his arm around me until I stopped shaking and composed myself, then he made me a grilled cheese sandwich before I had to bike home. I moved away to Altus shortly after that.
Fast forward to age 15: before Booger was born, before the May 3rd Tornado, around the time I had ended things with my Uncle. A new boy had transferred to my Junior High School. Having been someone who moved around so often, I knew how much it could suck to have no friends in a new place, so it became a habit of mine to befriend the new kids as a sort of starter friend until they figured out which group they wanted to hang out with.
Lip was tall, more than a little awkward, but funny and enthusiastic about being friends. He and I eventually began dating after some contention between another girl who fancied him but he chose me. He would tell me all about how his life was in Minnesota, working for his grandfather during the summers at the State Fair, whom he still missed a great deal. Eventually he told me a tragic story about a girl he dated who died, and that’s why they moved to Oklahoma, so they could all start a new life.
I wouldn’t have ever considered myself one of the Cool Kids but I was allegedly cool enough to be named on a hit list of one of the kids in my class. This dude was picking on Lip one day while the teacher was out of the room, just razzing him for no real reason other than he was new, and after this dick started saying stuff about his mother, Lip just walked over and punched him in the face.
They both ended up getting suspended for fighting and a few weeks later, the dude was escorted from the school in a flurry of drama. Some rumors were he called in a threat, others were he brought in a weapon, but rumor has it my name was on the list found in his locker, next to Lip’s, being guilty by association for the ass kicking he kinda deserved for being a dick.
Lip, our friends and I had spent all of our spare time together, we’d go do Hoodrat shit at the parks, go to the movies on the weekends and terrorize the mall. As we were growing more and more affectionate, the May 3rd 1999 tornado ravaged Oklahoma City. Our neighborhood was hit and evacuated to the MegaChurch down the road.
I got to sleep in someone’s arms, Lip’s arms who was so loving and tender with me but treated me like his equal, someone other than my Uncle’s for the first time after one of the more traumatic nights of my life. I remember our Dads wondered if our sleeping like that was appropriate but I heard Lip’s mom tell them to leave us be.
It wasn’t long after that Lip and I had sex, and after, his guilt started to surface. Realizing how much he cared for me, Lip confessed that he felt ashamed for lying to me about his dead girlfriend, she was still alive in Minnesota and the only reason they moved was because of his father’s job. I imagine they still talked regularly and he felt guilty for his continued feelings for her compounded by his growing feelings for me, feeling he may have betrayed us both. Lip told me he just wanted to impress me and that’s the first thing he thought of (tragic cancer death romances were all the rage at the time).
I felt hurt and betrayed. I understood why but I was still angry and confused by it. I wasn’t sure how to handle this news, and while at home, my father sensing my distress began to pry. He began grilling me about my sex life.: Was I a virgin? Had I been sleeping with Lip? How long had I been sexually active?
I didn’t lie and answered his questions directly but tried not to give too much away for fear of more severe punishment. After our talk, he drove us over to Lip’s house so he could talk with Lip’s parents. I sat in the truck while he went inside to speak with them and it was decided that Lip and I should break up. His father said some unkind things in reference to my race at this time, thinking I was the bad influence on his son, and referred to me as a rice picker.
I was grounded for losing my virginity 3 years earlier, and for fucking my boyfriend I’d been seeing for nearly 8 months. Such whore! Much slut!
That summer was difficult for me. My friend group seemed to be splintering because Lip and I weren’t allowed to hang around each other so I sometimes got my friends to come hang with me or sometimes they were off with Lip. It all seemed so unfair. Driving seemed like the ultimate symbol of freedom and independence and I craved to go anywhere but home. I was able to get into the Driver’s Ed Course over the summer and I clung to the hope Lip and I could reconcile in secret.
The first day of Driver’s Ed was a day I’ll never forget. I was ecstatic that most of my friends were enrolled. I missed them all so much and even if Lip and I couldn’t date, I still wanted us all to stay friends. We carpooled together the first day and I remember it felt awkward at first with his mom dropping us off.
I remember hearing Christina Aguilera’s Genie in a Bottle and the song has been burned into my memory as that event for me, hanging out with my friends in a cramped minivan, on the way to become more self-reliant teens, happy to be together and nervous about what was coming next. I see now how fitting a song it really is for such a moment.
But the day went on, I did very well at my turn driving (having had so much practice already with my Uncle), the class ended so Kaley and I waited for my dad to pick us up. We waited quite awhile, but we were enjoying each other’s company and none of us had a cell phone then, so we waited in the warmth of summertime and gossiping about everyone in class.
Eventually my dad comes along tearing ass, screeches to a halt, and huffs himself out of the truck. He’s obviously quite upset at me and he begins booming, “WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL ME TO PICK YOU UP HERE?! I WENT TO THE OTHER HIGH SCHOOL AND NOBODY WAS THERE!” I tried to explain to him I reminded him where it was and that he had to sign a waiver for me to even attend it at the other high school in the district, but it didn’t matter. I was in trouble for his inability to recall provided information. As if I needed more proof he never paid attention to me.
I was fortunate enough to have a vehicle during my time as a high school student. My car was bought for me through a loan procured with my Dad as a cosigner. It was agreed that he would pay the insurance and I would cover the loan payment and my own fuel, so I worked at a Hollywood Video through high school. My first car was a 1994 Mustang Convertible and I fell in love.
During my sophomore year, I dated a pretty stoic dude. Stoic was a little older and super chill. He invited me to be his date for the prom that year. I went and we had a very good time. We went on a few more dates before he graduated and ended up becoming physical. I remember one glorious night riding him in my back seat, parked on the side of the highway access road, convertible top down and in ecstasy (also the first time I ever squirted which was alarming but awesome).
When I told my friends, they laughed and started singing the lyrics to Tom Cochrane’s song “Life Is a Highway”. Whether this inside joke lead to others figuring out what had happened or kids are just assholes, eventually my car was targeted by some jerks. They emptied bottles of soda all over my cloth interior when the top was down in front of Stoic’s house. When I realized what had happened, it had congealed to a nasty syrup everywhere and took forever to clean. I detailed my own vehicle because while I was able to afford a car, I couldn’t afford to have someone else clean it for me.
I was glad to be transferring schools for this reason, before I found out about their curriculum scheduling. The rumor mill about me had not been favorable and I was glad to start fresh. *Fun fact: I had someone from that school chat with me in public some years later, and they asked me how my kid was doing. Found out the rumor was that I got knocked up and dropped out, and my sister coming along the next year, having Booger with me everywhere confirmed their suspicions (we do look a lot alike cuz siblings).
Working and going to school and taking care of my baby sister was a lot to juggle but because I wasn’t putting so much pressure on myself to succeed academically, I started focusing on more social activities. I was always drawn to performing arts through middle school, taking band in grades 7 & 8, then choir in my freshman year, eventually finding the most joy in my theater courses. I joined the Drama Club (and was elected Secretary in my senior year), finally feeling I belonged to something special.
It was in my Junior year, at a new school, taking Drama class together where I met Paddington, a guy who was so different than anyone else I’d ever met. He was incredibly smart, funny, kind, and he had an adorable awkwardness that made me feel a lot more relaxed around him (and he wore a long yellow raincoat year round). Before my sister was born, we dated and as things do with 16 year olds, we started more physical displays of affection.
The kicker, he was religious. Not Christian, but a newer religion called Baha’i. His family was so open and caring, involved but not authoritarian, and genuinely welcoming to me. I went to a few of their religious events during our time together. Paddington resisted temptation for a time and we’d find more tame ways to express our affections. We’d fool around in my car when I would drive him home and sometimes I would hang out with him in his bedroom and we’d make out on his bed.
One day while his parents were away, we got very close to having intercourse. We were undressed and about to start when his mom came home and walked in on us. We panicked, dressed, and went to greet her, but she figured out something was up. He got a talk and they even had me sit with them later to explain their feelings about us sneaking around to have sex. It was against their code of morals and they did not wish for us to break up, but they also were not going to condone that behavior.
I tried to stick it out with Paddington but it seemed our hormones couldn’t be put in check while together. I would try to please him but he’d pull my hands away. He would play with me instead and try to make me feel good so that I could get some release but it only made it worse. Knowing I couldn’t do it with him tainted the foreplay and I couldn’t be sated. I wanted more. After a few more dates, I broke it off.
After having my sex drive ramped up and emergency braked too many times, my head clouded and when asked to hang out with Duck, a friend of Paddington’s, I agreed. I spilled a lot of what was happening with me and how I had just broke it off with P. We fucked that same night. Word got around to Paddington after the fact and I believe he’s hated me ever since.
I once had a friend who introduced me to a coworker from Taco Bell…Chet. Chet and I dated a bit and it was mostly good fun, even ended up engaged after he proposed to me at my Senior Prom in front of my gigantic graduating class. I became instantly memorable and he ate up the attention but I really just thought that’s what you’re supposed to do in life, find someone and settle down, right? Well, I learned… not so much with a douchebag.
Stay tuned for the next installment of my life lessons: Hey, You Still Up or Nah?