Fast forward a few years, on one of the first days of her new job at a hardware store that was opening up in her town, she met a guy. She was 22 and he was 27. “Ooh, he’s older,” she thought to herself. He wasn’t really much to look at. His eyes were a nice blue, but they slanted down and outwards in a way that made you wonder if his mother drank when she was pregnant. He had a decent smile though. He was taller than her. He paid attention to her. He flirted with her. And he was nice. “He must really like me. He talks to me and texts me and pays attention to me… and he’s not even drunk when he does it!” she rationalized. Clearly her standards were not nearly high enough, but she was so unfamiliar with the experience of someone actually reciprocating her feelings. He asked her to hang out. She tried not to seem too eager before she excitedly agreed.
It was then that she found out he lived in his mother’s basement – with his son (every second week). Her friends were quick to bring her back to earth. They tried to be supportive while also trying to make her see that this deadbeat-stoner-man/boy-with-a-kid might not be the best choice for her first real boyfriend. All she heard was “first real boyfriend”. She definitely had her blinders on, concerned only with the fact that she liked him, and he liked her and that maybe, finally, she would lose her virginity. She would finally know what it feels like to be intimate with someone and to feel all the feelings she knew would open her eyes to a vast world of new experiences…
… But it wasn’t that great.
In fact, it was awkward, and rushed, and dry, and painful.
She still lived with her parents at the time. Even though he did too, there was more privacy at his mom’s house. So, she agreed to experience her first time on the old, worn out hide-a-bed in his mother’s basement. Very romantic. They started fooling around and she was both surprised and underwhelmed with what he was packing down there. Probably a blessing, though, considering how painful it was. Could have been worse if he had had more to work with. At the time though, despite her notable disappointment with everything thus far, she still remained ecstatic at the fact that this guy liked her. This guy was willing to be with her, thought she was sexy, and seemed to actually like her. Her reservations were pushed back further and further with each rendezvous they had. For a while it seemed like things were actually getting serious. They even took a camping trip one weekend. They swam and drank and ate meals by the fire. Ever have sex while camping? It’s fucking in-tents! (Sorry – couldn’t resist) Things were going so well, her friends invited him to her university graduation party. What was even more surprising was that he actually came! He met all her friends, her parents, random extended family, even. And they had great sex later that night. For over two years their relationship was casual and fun. She was content.
Eventually, however, things started to change. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe, actually, she just finally opened her eyes and saw the relationship for what it was. She had never met his friends. Never met his mom. Met his kid once, but by accident. He only texted her in the evenings and at night. He would make excuses if she wanted to really hang out. All they did was smoke weed, have sex, and she would leave. She stewed in the thought that he felt she just wasn’t good enough to be a full part of his life. Not really the dream relationship.
Then, one Christmas, things between them came crashing down when she finally got a new Android phone. Being a lover of the art of photography and of taking her own pictures, she had anxiously been awaiting the day she could download Instagram and edit and filter her pictures like all the cool kids were doing. That night she scrolled through the list of Suggested Friends and saw his name. Without thinking twice, she checked out his profile, which was public, and to her heartbreaking surprise, discovered why he hadn’t been able to hang out with her a few days prior. It wasn’t because he had his son that night, like he had said, but because he was seeing someone else. Someone who was worthy enough to meet his mother, to meet his son, and to share fucking Christmas dinner with!
She immediately typed up a message. She must have reread and edited it a hundred times. In summation, it said that he was a coward for not telling her he was seeing someone. That she knew she wasn’t his girlfriend, but as someone who he had had sex with not that long ago, it would have been common courtesy to let her know that he was also sleeping with someone else. It’s not that he met someone, but that he didn’t think enough of her to even tell her about it. His account became private very quickly after that and she never received a reply. That was the end of her first “relationship”.
And then she cried. She cried, and cried, and cried. That was only December 25th. There was still at least ten days of holidays left. Ten days of nothing to do but sit and think about how undesirable she was. How worthless, how fat, how pathetic and disgusting and desperate she was. She went over it again and again, that a guy as pitiful as that was still not interested in her. She must really be at the bottom of the trash heap if even he didn’t want her. That New Years Eve was a blur, which is exactly what she wanted. She needed to be drunk and numb if/when she hooked up with another guy who would deny his interest in her if questioned. The new year was upon them, and she was done letting guys treat her like a second thought. Like she wasn’t good enough. If no guy wanted her, she didn’t want a guy either. She was going to be happy on her own.
That lasted a month.