…especially if your past is ridiculously attractive SOB whom you lost your virginity to.
2013, meet summer of 2005.
8 years ago on a hot June day on the last day of school before summer officially started, I lost my virginity. (I apologize to my family members who read my blog— but come on.. don’t act like you weren’t doing the exact same thing when you were 16.)
Anyway, back to my story… So there I was with the hottest guy in school whom every girl was basically throwing themselves at—who happen to be my best guy friend AND a virgin— butt naked in bed on top of green sheets with no idea how to do it. And did I mention he’s absolutely stunning?
So we did it. Awkwardly, but hey we did it. Fast forward a few months and there I am… butt naked on my bathroom floor crying my eyes out because I wanted a relationship and he didn’t. As with most high school first times, I eventually got over it and moved on.
So throw in finishing high school, going to college, making new friends, seeing the world, dating the guy(s) that I thought I would marry, starting a career, and becoming a fitness nut— and for him: finishing high school, dating a girl he thought he was gonna marry, joining the military (yes… I know, I have a thing for men in uniform. DONT JUDGE), and doing a tour in Afghanistan … 8 years has passed for us.
Funny thing is… these last 8 years, I always smiled when he would come up in conversation. I would pat myself on the back when retelling the story of how I lost my virginity and how I never regretted one minute of it (HA-HA!) Totally kidding- Asshole is amazing in bed. *sighs* Anyway, I never regretted it and even pitied the girls who lost their v-card to some jerk in the backseat of a car.
OKAY SO WHY THE HELL AM I CRYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR 8 YEARS LATER?! Luckily, 8 years has taught me not to cry butt naked on the bathroom floor… I have a robe on. (See, I learned some valuable lessons over the years.) I’m in the exact same situation I was in 8 years ago, because my past came knocking on my door and instead of slamming it in his gorgeous chiseled face … I held it opened and invited him in.
Now he’s all sorts of messed up in the head. He’d always been a troubled kid when we were younger, and add the military, little bit of war wacky, and a broken heart: and you got yourself one emotionless cold hearted human being who STILL has girls throwing their panties at him! I mean it’s ridiculous how yummy this guy is. He’s like a good wine… gets better with age. And instead of hauling ass to the nearest exit… I saw him as a “project.”
Ah, yes “project guys.” In this case, I like to call him my DIY. You know the DIY projects you see on Pinterest that look AMAZING upon completion that make you wanna run to the nearest art supply store and go ape shit? The ones that you swear will look amazing til you end up with glue in your hair, a hole in your table, and something that resembles a glittery turd? He was and has always been my project guy. Which is why I’m on my bathroom floor with a robe, on a Friday night. I thought the years that have passed may have changed him… but they didn’t. If anything, he worse now than he was when we were teenagers.
So here we are on the phone like teenagers again… he hopes that I find someone that makes me happy one day and I’m completely speechless and heartbroken.
There is a reason the past is the past. I should have left him as the 17 year old boy that I once knew … and pray that he gets bald and fat.