When I was 17 years old, I was dating a 20 something named Jake. Average build, run of the mill face, chill demeanor and an all around easy guy to love. He had a short, well-kept beard, trim wavy auburn hair then he kept tucked behind his ears under his red baseball cap.This was one of the first real boyfriend/girlfriend type experiences I’d ever had, and right up until the end of it I would have classified it as a good one.
Jake was sweet to me, always picking me up from school in his sporty white car with the black hood. Our favorite past times were snuggling up to watch movies together at his place and taking weekend drives thru the country side together. My mother loved him, I loved him and I honestly can’t think of anything bad to say about the guy. He was a super dope dude, that I mentally scared and I’m sure ruined for all future relationships, cause that’s what I do.
It was our first (albeit only) New Years Eve together, which we had decided to celebrate at my house by staying up and watching the ball drop with my mom. Just some good clean American fun with snacks and a New Years kiss. Come the strike of 12:01am my mother puttered off to bed, leaving us to our own devices. Jake and I had already had sex with one another on a handful of occasions so this wasn’t our first rodeo. Jake and I kissed and nuzzled one another for a while before he started tugging at my jeans. We were tangled up on the living room floor with the tv on low so as not to disturb my parental unit. I sat up and removed my jeans and undies while maintaining eye contact…..not to be sexy, but to watch his eyes and make sure he didn’t lower his gaze to my exposed lady pocket. Spoiler alert, that wasn’t really going to matter in a moment.
Jake and I kissed while he slowly pushed me flat to the floor, I watched nervously as he took his kisses south of the border. My mind was racing with thoughts like, I hope it smells ok, I really really hope there isn’t any toilet paper shrapnel and of course, I wondered if he realized there was going to be pee and poo particles down there. It’s not like I was using scrubbing bubbles on my squishy parts. There is grossness to be had down there. It’s science.
Annnnnnnnnnnd, it was happening. My human animal instincts were registering the technical aspects of what he was doing downtown murphy brown. It was ok, like not to slobbery or fast, physically it was good. Mentally it was an entirely different story, I could literally feel myself fracturing with each passing moment. There was this undefinable sense of guilt, like I was doing something dirty and unforgivable. I don’t know how long he was hanging out down there, but at some point, I sat up and shoved him away hard. I think he mistook that for a classic “I want your D now”, because he grabbed at his belt. I stammered “Stop.” and kept my eyes to the floor.
I couldn’t even look at him! I was disgusted with him and myself and I had absolutely no idea why.
I wanted Jake to leave, right then and there. I started to cry, quietly and I told him it was over. Then HE started to cry, like a really girly, blubbery, please don’t leave me type of cry. Gags So there we were,teary eyed with snotty noses, half-dressed and both confused about the very sudden turn of events that night. I looked up at him and I felt nothing, just a big nothing in my chest where the love used to be. I asked him to leave and said I never wanted to see him again. He begged to stay and pleaded with me to just be his friend, starting now. I asked him to please leave, I wanted to be alone and his face disgusted me…so he got up and left the room.
When he came back he had checkers, the board game. I wish he didn’t, God I really wish he didn’t. If I had a time machine, I would go back to this moment and swat the checkers out of his hand. Like, I might even over look the whole Hitler Holocaust thing just to stop this moment from existing in my life.What the fuck were you thinking Jake??? Checkers. In retrospect I’m thinking this guy was like the biggest checker enthusiast in the entire solar system and we just hadn’t gotten to the point of the relationship where he would have showed me all his checker awards and trophies. So yeah, we played some effing checkers on the living room floor, for what felt like the length of my 20s, and then he went home and I never spoke to him again. (Ever)
The worst part in all of this is that I now fear having anyone’s face anywhere near my kanga pouch, but I have absolutely no issues with sitting down to a game of checkers. Fuck me, right?
Finn?
Pretty polar 