It all starts with love. It always does. I become enamored, enraptured and possessed very easily. I am stubborn and willful when it comes to getting what I want, and the journey of the past few years has been one of learning to let go, to accept, and to understand that life is not about controlling others it is about controlling yourself.
Names and places and any resemblance to real life people is strictly by chance. Wink wink nudge nudge, No, really, I am serious. Totally fabricated. So if you think you see yourself here… you are fucking crazy. Either that or you have a guilty conscience and you need to take that up with your chosen deity.
Where was I, oh yes, love. I am a notorious bookworm. I can read a thousand page novel in eight hours. This does not leave much time for reality, and breeds a very warped sense of what real life should be. I do not recommend being a bookworm. Half of my horrible ideas of relationships came from books filled with tragic and misunderstood heroes and heroines who came to fucked up understandings of how to get along. Never underestimate the power of words and their impact on other human beings. My love affair with reading began when I was ten years old. My crazy father took the television from our home for three years. I have a huge gap of social events from this time. I replaced it with trips to the library. I read through all the young adult section horror to coming of age to romance. Romance won. I discreetly began checking out adult romance stories when I was twelve. My world changed. My sexual education began to be shaped. My young mind crafted a need for a hero to woo me. Upon reflection I doubt this man exists anywhere but in my youthful mind.
High school was a blip. No one ever flirted with me or paid any attention to me except to call me names like *wheat head* (I had swimmer’s blonde hair) or they asked me about my slutty friend Cassandra who I never really kept touch with after first semester of college. She wrote me a letter about her new boyfriend wanting a threesome and asked me to join. As a nineteen year old virgin the idea of my best friend wanting this event did not fit with the mental picture of what I thought my first time should be.
College, or as those in other parts of the world call it Uni, was interesting. I spent several months obsessing over a young man who I learned many years later had made a promise never to do anything with me out of respect of his friendship with someone else. This, when I discovered this, pissed me the fuck off. And I am fairly certain karma is working itself out with the pair of them so while it makes me sad that they are suffering, they did it to themselves.
I took lots of poetry classes and literature classes in college. I love writing. I love words. It has taken me a lifetime to rediscover this love and I owe it to someone I shall call Tijger. He knows who he is. Tijger has been one of the best things to ever happen to me. He has traveled with me through the hardest times of my life. I owe him so much. I love him, unconditionally. Enough about him for the moment… he was not there when I was in college because if he was I doubt I would be writing this story, it would be something totally different.
I fell for a bad boy. I always thought that bad boys were secretly good. This is not true. This was a myth it took lots of time to disprove. I think I should have paid closer attention to Anne Shirley when she spoke of wanting someone who was good, but just a little bit wicked. I am not super exotic when it comes to my personal tastes, well maybe I am, but I am not looking for extreme. This bad boy was also divergent and is someone who will never love me or desire me as I want. This was a very difficult lesson to learn. A lesson compounded by children and a failed marriage. God gave me what I asked for and prayed for, I thanked him for it …. only to discover that no, it was not want I wanted but more importantly not what I needed.
I was relentless in my pursuit. I shut out friends and family his and mine who warned me about him. I knew best. There is only so much they can do to stop someone hell bent on running into a brick wall. Here, hold my beer… and I don’t even drink a lot of beer.
I must say, I am glad that I waited until I was ready to have sex. I put everything I read about to use and learned as I went. It was incredible. Not many people can say that about their first time, I know I have talked to a lot of people. It is not the honey moon phase of my relationship which I will pull apart and share. He was charming and all that for a bit. Or maybe I painted a picture of a charming man. After we slept together he did not really talk to me. This should have been a huge flashing sign. He got laid ergo I had no further spot in his world. But no, I adopted the odd position that it was a phase and we were meant to be…ding dong dumb… programming from literature cluttered my head. I was right. I was the heroine of my own life. I would have my happily ever after with the man who took my virginity. Yeah… see, not so much.
