Yesterday during a slow period at work, I was biding my time, messing around online.  Specifically, I was poking around Facebook. 

So, talk about a blast from the past, I stumbled across my first true love.  The guy I gave my virginity to.  I hadn’t thought about him forever.  It was weird seeing his piercing blue eyes again, and thinking back to the time when we were together.  He had a white Toyota pick-up, lifted of course, with a booming sound system.  We listened to Millie Vanilli (“Blame it on the rain, yeah, yeah . . .”) while he taught me to drive.  It wouldn’t last because he was too old for me.  I told him I was 17 when I was really 14.  And he was something like 22.  The truth came out and it was over.  Also, my dad found out.  It’s a miracle he’s still alive to have a Facebook page.

We had sex once.  It hurt so bad, I didn’t do it again until I was nearly 17.  I didn’t understand why people did it.  And, it was the first time I’d touched a penis, too.  Gross!  Clearly, I was too young to be doing it anyway. 

He’s in his forties now.  Bald and overweight.  He’s a truck driver.  Married.  His wife is very overweight but you could tell that she was once thinner.  She is pretty and in her photos always has her hair and make-up done.  He has two teenaged girls and a couple dogs.  Lots of photos of camping trips and going to Disneyland.  Posts about what they had for dinner.  Typical family life around these parts.  I’m glad I escaped it.

For a second I thought about saying hi, but decided against it.  I wonder if he would remember me?


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