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?