Sunday, June 15, 2008

I'm reading THE story, the novel-length Beatles fanfic I discovered in the 6th grade and learned all about sex from. It always brings back strange memories for me because I have always associated my sexual adventures with it, because when I had them I thought back to the story to compare description to actual experience.

And even more than just sex, I learned about mature emotions from it. I relate to it every time I read it for new reasons, and can link certain passages back to certain boys.

Ben was the first boy to really touch me, the first to turn me on. He was my first real kiss, first serious relationship, my first notion of what love was supposed to be. Every expectation I have of boys who claim to love me was originally set by him; he conditioned me, in a manner of speaking, to take every detail to mean something important, to be suspicious and jealous, to expect both a selfless lover and a boyfriend who would literally do nothing without thinking of me and acting in my interest. How awful. Although I have always possessed a more sentimental nature than normal, I firmly believe that I owe most of my inclination towards melodrama to him.

Paul was the first boy I dated who saw me naked. He was also the first I went down on, the first I brought to climax entirely on my own. He was also the first (and only) one I have cheated on. He was the first (and only) to write me poems because he felt like it and not because he felt obligated to. I have learned in retrospect from my relationship with him that crying out "love" is possibly the heaviest matter of all.

Austin was my first of so many things. He was the first boy I spent the night with, and of course, I lost my virginity to him. He was the first person I seriously would have married. Although I believe I may have loved Ben, Austin was what we in cliche romanticism would term my "first love." He was the first boyfriend I have actually traveled with, and the first one my parents took seriously. He was the first to actually, truly break my heart. He gave me my first orgasm. He was the only boy to this day who has spent a holiday with my family and whose family I myself have spent a holiday with.

And Gavin. Gavin is the first boy I have lived with, which entails countless other firsts. It's more difficult to describe a relationship when it is still happening.

The point of this entry is that I am feeling nostalgic towards my romantic and sexual past. I am 20 years old and sometimes I really do feel mature, although usually it is not something I consciously consider.

I'm also more conscious of my physical appeal. I go to the gym everyday and it is beginning to show. I dress well. A lot of times I walk with the confidence of a young woman who knows she is truly loved, which I am aware in itself adds a copious amount of attraction to my appearance. Boys looked at me today--in that way, and they flirted a little. I learned that one of my co-workers, Nikki, who I went boating with a couple of weeks ago, has been denying her boyfriend's friend who went with us my phone number. Apparently he will not stop talking about how I am cute (in my bikini??) and her boyfriend Andy is continuously pestering her about getting my number but she has held fast and insisted I am quite taken and very happy about it.

I just need to hold onto this confident feeling and keep it going.

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