Story of My Life (Part 1/2)

Well, here we are again.

I seem to always have the inspiration to write when I have papers due for class that I haven't started yet. I should look into this.

Alright. So. I'm going to discuss something that plagues me nearly every day of my life: romance.

Yes, and this particular romance draws me all the way back to my fifteenth year of life. Only one person alive knows this whole story, aside from the one person this story involved, and for the first time in any capacity, I'm going to write it all down. *sigh* Here it goes.

Memorial Day weekend 2008. In a local beach town, it has become a tradition for my family, along with friends so close they have become our extended family, to spend a weekend celebrating life together. It's still one of the best traditions we have. This year, our family friends bring along their eldest son, Morgan.

From memory, Morgan is everything I've ever imagined in a guy. Deep brown eyes, curly mop of hair, impossible charm and humor for days. Aside from being physically attractive, he had a personality that called to me. I was done for.

Our families always rent rooms on the same floor of the same hotel, with adjoining rooms so everyone can walk freely from one room to the next. It was because of this that one afternoon I found myself sprawled on our couch while the boy in question walked in, singing Feel Good Inc. by the Gorillaz. It was the one song that creeped me out, due to an unfortunate experience in eighth grade music class. I said as much, which prompted him to ask, "Well then, what type of music would you prefer?"

I had no idea what to say. If I was put into the same situation now, things would be different. I'm no longer flustered at the thought of a boy talking to me. It seems childish to me that I was, at 15. Either way, I answered something, giving the name of a mainstream pop song, no doubt. Not that I don't still love pop music, I just love a lot of different things now as well. Clearly he wasn't impressed, and he said as much as he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the sundeck, asking "Have you ever heard of Sugarcult?" My response was no, and it happened to be true. But in all honesty, in that moment he could have asked me if I knew the sky was blue, and I would have said no. I was too caught up in everything that was happening. At this stage in my life, I wasn't garnering much attention from the opposite sex. Or the same sex for that matter. No, I wasn't someone who was romantically desirable to anyone. And while it may have been due to my extreme lack of self-confidence, the point remained: I felt invisible, and for a moment, he changed that.

I feel the need to sidebar here. I know what some people are thinking. This sounds stereotypical; a girl finding her self-worth because some beautiful boy noticed her. Hear me out. This is not a case of "Senpai noticed me." Yes, he did make me feel wanted. But that didn't change my self confidence. In all honesty, my self concept didn't change until about 3 years ago. After being so hard on myself for years, I finally started to dig myself out of the hole I created with my self-loathing. I finally came to love myself, which some people will tell you wasn't necessarily for the better. My confidence has never been higher, and I'm now one of those can't-walk-past-a-reflective-surface-without-staring types. Go figure. 

So, like I said, he asked if I had ever heard of Sugarcult. To which I answered no, although now that I think about it, I did know them before he showed them to me. Ah, well. Anyway, with me clearly being musically impaired in his eyes, he said, "Well, you're about to."

At this point, we're out on the sundeck, overlooking the beach. And, I shit you not, the sun was setting. I was standing there, sharing headphones with this impossible guy, and barely breathing. For me, this was a fairytale. This was a big deal. And I wasn't going to let anything ruin it.

Until something ruined it.

Or rather, someone. His little sister, four years old at the time, came running up to us, demanding my attention. Questioning why we were outside. Alone. Sharing headphones. I swear, children have crazy insight to matters romantical.

So the moment was finished. But the weekend went on. Playful banter was shared. Little flirtations went by unnoticed. Hanging around the pool was fun, due to the fact that we dunked each other whenever the other wasn't looking. Emotionally, I was on fire.

The day before our last, we finally had a moment's peace. We were both alone in the hotel room, everyone else either by the pool or setting up a barbeque. I can still feel now how nervous I was then.

I never thought the first time I kissed a guy would be in a bathroom. Although, I shouldn't have been shocked. The first time I kissed a girl was in a bathroom, less than 3 years before then. I guess that's just a thing for me. (To be fair, they kissed me. Not that I didn't participate. Just giving credit where it's due.)

To say things progressed from there would be an understatement. Nothing along the lines of my father having to be worried about my fifteen year old virtue, but enough so that one of us was...satisfied. Satiated? I mean, I hope so. I'd like to think I wasn't a total failure, even back then.

All in all, it was a very big vacation for me. I was forever changed. I've lived with this crazy lust/infatution for years. Of course, after the vacation we stayed somewhat in touch, never progressing to anything fully, yet never actually cutting out of each other's lives. This would prove to be problematic, and may have led to relationship problems on his end. I'm pretty sure his continued correspondence with me led to his ex's trust issues with him. There's many a tale I could tell here, but I'll refrain.

If anything, the whole experience kept the idea of love alive in my heart. And hasn't deterred me from being the bleeding hopeless romantic I am today.