I had sex with my boyfriend on our second date. That doesn’t sound like a big deal I know, but I was a 21 year old virgin who wanted to stay that way until my wedding day. Instead of walking down the aisle pure, I gave away my virginity in the most cliche way; the passenger seat of a Honda Accord.
Did I regret my decision? At the time not at all, as I was back in that same car - albeit in the back seat and on top this time - two nights later doing it again. But over time I wish I hadn’t. Why? Because our relationship became all about SEX. Or at least I thought it did.
From my point of view, nearly every time we went out, we engaged in some sort of sexual activity. Mostly it was intercourse. As I looked over our dates and the times we got busy, it was roughly 90% of the time. It was extremely rare we had a date or time together when we didn’t do something sexual.
My boyfriend didn’t think this was an issue. We’re young, healthy, attracted to one another, and have feelings for each other (he carefully avoided the “L” word). Why WOULDN’T we have sex? I mean when you look at it that way, damn it makes sense. But I felt we were sacrificing intimacy and closeness for sexual satisfaction.
So I broke up with him.
I may mention here that I’m also a tad dramatic, but I thought a break would help us appreciate how much we meant to each other emotionally , not just as physical objects. The time apart would cause us to realize we love each other for who we are not just how we make each other feel in bed or how we look naked.
A larger issue developed during our break though.
I was so damn horny.
Going from none, to a lot, to none again in the span of seven months really messed with my body. I was having a difficult time. Masturbating three or four times a day helped sooooo much but didn’t scratch the itch completely.
So after five weeks, I called him and asked to see him. We went out on a date, nice and innocent. And while he’s telling me about his life and what’s going on, I’m thinking of nasty, sexual things I want to do to him.
He finally reads me, but it takes him awhile. We skip desert and run to his parents house who he is house sitting for. That works in my favor. As a bachelor he lives like one and I routinely cleaned his apartment to my specifications. I’m certain in my absence it’s not stayed that way.
The sex is amazing, earth shattering. I let loose in a way I hadn’t before and we do some things we hadn’t before either. He tells me he’s in love with me and I cry tears of joy, having waited so long to hear him say that. It couldn’t have been a more perfect night/morning.
Then I broke up with him again.
Hearing him say he loved me scared me. I wasn’t ready for what comes with love. Yes I know I’m feeding into the typical psycho girl stereotype but it was what it was. I wasn’t making wise decisions.
He pursued me. He kept after me. And we would talk, but I didn’t go out with him again. Not for two more months. Oh the horny AF thing? Yeah that was a problem. I bought a vibrator and that helped A LOT. I still craved him but it was more manageable with a vibrator doing the heavy lifting.
Then my friend had a wedding in which I was a bridesmaid. I knew it was coming but didn’t pay much attention to the +1. Shortly before the wedding I asked him to go with me. I did NOT want to be alone at this thing in front of my friends.
I had a hotel room, as all the bridesmaids did. At the wedding he was so charming, so sexy, I literally took him by the hand and led him to my room. I told him I loved him as I had my first orgasm. I said it with the second one too. And in the morning I told him with tears in my eyes I was in love with him but scared. He held me while I cried for a good five minutes.
Without realizing it, I had the intimacy all along. I was running from the person who made the earth move for me. I nearly lost something beautiful. Thankfully, he was persistent for both of us.
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