…buried in my heart.
A desperate yearning for love and the heart break that follows.
There was a boy in high school. I met him in grade 9 and he was cute and sweet and funny. I changed schools and later, years later, at foot ball game I decided to drive down to the school and watch. I hadn’t done my hair (which was bleached and normally spiky) so it lay flat and lifeless. Coupled with the green baseball jersey I wore, I’m sure I looked like a cute little lesbian. I bumped into him there and we hit it off. He engaged me and invited me out. To be honest I couldn’t believe he was attracted to me because I looked my worst.
We started dating. Or at least, that’s what I thought it was at the time. We used to make out in the field by his house under the full moon. He would tell me such romantic things, tell me I was beautiful, whisper my name while I nibbled on his ear. It was innocent, but I would have lost my virginity to him.
The night I met his mother, I had done a play at school and looked like an emo cutter. I had big black smudges on my eyes, black nail polish and grotesque red lipstick. She judged me harshly in that moment, and he probably had no refuge from her judgment. Later that night we made out on the couch while she was upstairs. It was the first time I had touched his dick. I was trying to be really good at hand jobs, but he was uncomfortable and told me to take it easy. I felt awful. In the middle of it his mom called down the stairs that it was time for me to leave. For all I knew the bitch was listening at the top of the stairs.
The next time I was over at his house, a girl from our class had to stop by to drop something off for a project they were working on. He looked and acted really embarrassed, and I couldn’t understand why. The way they looked at each other really through me off though. It was quite obvious that she liked him and had assumed he would be alone. I felt like a third wheel. This was the girl that every boy wants to bring home to his mother. Pretty, sweet, confident, really good in school, very social. I found her terribly perky and didn’t like her much.
After she left, we watched a movie and he sat on the opposite side of the couch. I really liked him. I had applied to be a counselor at a diabetic camp that summer, but I knew things with him were getting pretty serious, so I decided not to go. He broke up with me a few days later. And he was harsh about it too. He told me that he never really liked me like ‘that’, that things were getting too serious, and that his mother didn’t really like me anyway. He was incredibly tactless with my delicate heart.
I always had the feeling that he was just practicing with me, practicing his sweet words, practicing with his roaming hands. He left me feeling empty and broken hearted. Not long after I heard he started dating that other girl. I hoped she was a cold fish. A dead fuck. I think they’re married now. I almost bumped into him at the mall not too long ago. I looked up and saw him, I knew he had seen me because he made too much of an effort to avoid me. I was trying to catch his eye so I could ask him how he was doing and introduce him to my child. He walked by me pointedly looking away.
That hurt the most because he made me feel so special when I was with him. He always made me feel like such a lady, someone worthy of the devotion he gave me and then in one fell swoop he took it all away. I wasn’t really special, I was just the practice model until he found the real thing.
Another boy I met in a high school night class. I fell in love with him. He was the most unique person I’d ever met. He was interesting and I was enthralled with him. He invited me out to his birthday party and we got drunk and made out. I remember his best friend said that watching us kiss looked like a lion eating a gazel but the with the gazel fighting back to take it’s own share. We always laughed at that. He was tender with me, very open and honest. I loved him dearly, and imagined an entire future with him. He was stable, passionate (our sex was incredible), and romantic. I used to love the way he would hold me, especially after sex. We were great friends and amazing lovers. I remember walking into his parents house (I would pick him up for school, with another friend of mine who was waiting in the car.) I knew as soon as I walked in that something was different. He was stiffer, cold. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Finally I called him on it. He admitted that he didn’t see us working out. Things were getting too intense and he felt that I was feeling way more for him than he was for me. He didn’t think it was fair to me to not feel the same way. It crushed me.
All my dreams of him, of being with him, marrying him, making babies with him, gone in an instant. I truly thought we would be together for the long haul. I don’t think he ever really realized how much I loved him. Or maybe he did but knew he would never feel like that about me. He was tender to the very end, and I appreciated that from him. We met up a few years later and now we’re pretty good friends. He actually just got married. He’s a still a really great guy and a good friend.
I like to open my heart to people, especially my lovers. I don’t think they ever really knew that, or at least I tried not to let them know that. I always yearned for love.
I had a mad crush on a friend of mine (this was the next year). I yearned for him, wanted him so badly. He never reciprocated. He was a few years older than me and we used to drive up to his dad’s cottage. Of all the cottages I’ve ever been to, even since then, I’ve never seen the stars like I did there. Once he hosted a big party there and all of us got drunk and passed out in the cots in the basement. We were pretty close friends and we fell asleep together. I woke up to him grinding on me. It was really nice. I turned around and gave him a hand job. We kissed a bit and eventually he came into my hand. I thought for sure that he had changed his mind and decided we would be together. He whispered in my ear that now was the time to find something, anything, to wipe my hands on. We were in the pitch black basement of the cottage surrounded by our sleeping friends. It was one of the first, true, erotic moments of my life.
I asked him later if it meant anything and he assured me it didn’t. It broke my heart again because I was sure that things had changed between us. I later went on to ‘date’ his friend. Well over a year later, when my feelings for him had cooled and I knew nothing would ever happen between us. We would all get drunk and his friend and I would make out. He was typically an asshole. A seriously mean asshole, but when he was drunk he treated me like gold. We would drink and make out and I loved rubbing his huge dick. I imagined losing my virginity to him. I used to grind on him in my little white panties, wondering what it would feel like to have his dick inside me. Man, he was an amazing kisser. After one such session, we went down to the kitchen for more beers and the guys were all hanging out there. He came up and hugged me close from behind. He held me like that for a while, as we drank beer and talked with the guys. I felt so special. I was surprised that he was so openly affectionate. It turned out that he was only like that when he was drunk. He treated me like absolute shit when he was sober. He barely talked to me, ever. It’s too bad he needed alcohol to open up and be honest with me. I had mentioned, “when we have sex,” because I just assumed I would lose my virginity to him and that freaked him out. He started getting meaner when he was sober, so I broke up with him. Which fucked him up real bad. He started drinking more and I went out with the guys less. Eventually he got over it, but I just thought it was mean that he couldn’t be nice to me unless he was drunk. It made me really sad too because I was falling for him. I could have loved him.
These feelings sometimes remind me of Kurdles. She is ready, willing, and able to give a beautiful, intense love and these assholes keep shoving it back in her face. Too much. Too intense. That’s how I felt with most of the guys I had been with. It was always the guys that were friends that I was ready love. A devoted servant, ready to placate them with hand jobs, and probably my virginity, if they would just love me.
Why don’t they like intense? I’ll never understand. If you show someone that kind of intensity they brush it off and call you crazy. I call it passionate and fuck anyone who says otherwise. I feel like she and I are of the same ilk when it comes to loving in a relationship. I want someone who is willing to fall with me, into passion. Who will be as intense with me as I feel for them. Who will fuck with raw passion, fuck the love into my pussy. Eye contact, heavy breathing, deep kisses and soft touches.
I think people are moving away from such intimate passion. There are new rules, stupid rules. Don’t be too clingy, wait 3 days before you call someone. I’ll never understand it. Luckily, I don’t have to. In my opinion though, if a guy wants to be with me, he’ll show interest, not a lack of it. My husband loves me. I love him dearly for all my whining about him. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about being too clingy.