Following on from my list of firsts, I decided to talk about my first loves.
Before I continue, I need to warn you that this post contains talk of the following: controlling partners, domestic violence, cheating.
MY FIRST LOVE
I have problems choosing my first love. I thought I was in love with all of the boys I dated in my younger years, but looking back now, after the bigger and better love affairs I’ve had, I know it wasn’t love at all; it was infatuation. Young obsession. Teenage lust.
I always thought that I was in love with Number 1, My First Boyf. We dated for a long time for kids our age (13/14), but it was tumultuous right from the very beginning. He was the popular, mysterious, hot guy that started at our school a couple of years after everyone else. I was badly bullied and I didn’t really have that many friends. When we first started hanging out, at the beginning of the six weeks summer holiday, he made me promise to keep it a secret. He didn’t want everyone to know that he – the popular boy – was dating me – the unpopular girl. And at first, I kept to my promise. But you know what summer romances are like: we fell in love. Hard. First love. When we headed back to school, at the end of the six weeks, I demanded that we evolved into a proper couple. I wanted a real relationship, something that I didn’t have to keep secret and hide from the rest of the world. I was in love. First love. I wanted the tell the world as such.
To my utter shock and surprise, he agreed to my demands. It didn’t take long for the news that we were dating to make its way around our year, and then some around of the students in the upper and lower years too. By proxy, I turned into a popular girl. I wasn’t used to being that side of the fence. All of a sudden, everyone wanted to talk to me. No one made fun of my high grades, my quirky dress sense, or my lopsided fringe because I let my mama cut my hair again. Everyone wanted my opinion on something, or my help with their homework, or to hangout with them in the canteen/form room/on the field.
I soon got used to being the popular guy’s girlfriend, but he turned into a bit of a sick. He was very controlling, but in ways that I didn’t see as controlling at the time. I smoked on and off back then, and he’d actually take cigarettes out of my mouth, drop them on the floor, and then stub them out right in front of me. It would infuriate me no end, especially when I’d just spent my last two quid on a packet of ten Red Band and that was the last one.
Other red flags arose, too. He started hating it when I went to the canteen without him, and also when I hung out with some of my other new friends in the form room. We came to blows a few times and on one occasion he hit me in the face. The other boys in my form pounced on him and saw that he learned his lesson, but it wasn’t the last time he got hands-on with me. There was nothing else as dramatic as that particular form room incident, but he was very controlling. Every spare moment of our time was spent together and it was all super intense. I can only imagine what he must be like now.
For the record, we broke up heading into one of our exams. I got a better grade than I was predicted, and he got a worse one.
MY FIRST LOVE: PART TWO
I always thought My First Boyf was my first love. I’ve always given him as the answer when I’ve been asked the question. In hindsight, I don’t think I loved him at all. I put up with a lot from him, and he tainted our relationship – and me – in more ways than one, but love? I’m not sure.
Number 2 – The Tie-Me-Up Guy – was my first real first love, I think. I wasn’t all that sad when I walked away from Number 1, but my life fell apart when Number 2 and I parted ways. After the vanilla-newness of the sex I had with my first partner, my second partner literally blew my mind, taking it to the extreme from a really early point (considering he was only my second ever lover). We were experimenting with bondage and blindfolds, playing with toys, and incorporating ‘accessories’ into our sex life from the very first time we ended up in bed together, and the [immature] sexual chemistry between us was off the scale.
We didn’t get to spend all that much time together because of his career (RAF), and we made the most of every second we had together at the weekend, going out and partying, enjoying young life and young love. When we didn’t get to have sex at the weekends, I’d actually be angry about it. Disappointed angry. Slipping between his sheets became the highlight of every week for me. It was the only thing that saw me through sixth form and my part-time job, some weeks.
The ending was disastrous, full of rumours and Chinese whispers. I’d heard through the grapevine that he’d cheated on me. In revenge, I went out and got blind drunk with his best friend, before then taking him to bed [Number 3 – The Bad Memory]. When tales of my infidelity made their way back to him, because of course they were going to, he broke things off with me, telling me that he’d met someone else and he wanted to give things a go with her. For a good two or three hours, I cried into my Nan’s lap as she consoled me and told me that men ain’t shit. But then I brushed myself off, got myself drunk, and went out dancing and drinking with Number 3 again. I didn’t fuck him that time around though.
I did pine for weeks and weeks and weeks, however. I cried a lot of tears for that boy. More than he deserved considering he’d already cheated on me before I cheated on him, and apparently that wasn’t the first time he’d done it, either. But it was because of him that I learned about my passion for bondage and being blindfolded. He started me off on my path to non-vanilla sex.
… to be continued.