Through all those lonely nights
I recently went through what some might say--what I said, myself--a "horrible break-up". And I must say, I was pretty irrational about it for a while. As the over-thinker that I am, I spent hours and days poring over the different details in my mind on how it went wrong, but now I realize how silly I've been.
It was a fling that lasted about two months--definitely not something to be devastated over (which I was). And for a while, I thought that I was simply so upset because I missed the way he said my name, his kiss, his touch, the feel of his skin on my fingertips, and the fantastically good times we had. And I must admit: I still miss that. But I've found that the true reason why his leaving was such a big deal in my mind was because I lost my virginity to him during that short span of time. I definitely don't regret that. He was a gentle, patient, caring lover--more patient than most men would be, I would think. And I've tried so hard not to let it get to me that I lost my virginity and then was promptly dropped within a couple of weeks; but in reality, my human side got the best of me and I snapped a little in the midst of my denial.
I'm currently working my head around that little bother, attempting to see it in a more positive light. I definitely don't feel used. But I feel like I was blinded when people told me that I should lose it to someone who was actually planning on loving me. It seemed silly in my mind to follow that guidance. What is love, anyway? And how soon would I find it? In reality, I really just wanted to get it out of my way without much feeling, but I guess sex has a way of putting feeling in a situation where there would typically be none.
But, this is me saying that I am now even-headed about this situation. I've finally gripped the reality of my feelings, and it's bittersweet. Not saying that I never liked him and that sex was the only reason why I had those feelings toward him. Just saying that sex magnified them to the point that I wasn't prepared or anticipating to have to deal with. This is a word of caution to all those over-thinking, seemingly steely virgins out there, really. Sex is like a drug: you don't really know how it's going to affect you until it's done its job, whether it's pleasant or, in my case, unpleasant.
It was a fling that lasted about two months--definitely not something to be devastated over (which I was). And for a while, I thought that I was simply so upset because I missed the way he said my name, his kiss, his touch, the feel of his skin on my fingertips, and the fantastically good times we had. And I must admit: I still miss that. But I've found that the true reason why his leaving was such a big deal in my mind was because I lost my virginity to him during that short span of time. I definitely don't regret that. He was a gentle, patient, caring lover--more patient than most men would be, I would think. And I've tried so hard not to let it get to me that I lost my virginity and then was promptly dropped within a couple of weeks; but in reality, my human side got the best of me and I snapped a little in the midst of my denial.
I'm currently working my head around that little bother, attempting to see it in a more positive light. I definitely don't feel used. But I feel like I was blinded when people told me that I should lose it to someone who was actually planning on loving me. It seemed silly in my mind to follow that guidance. What is love, anyway? And how soon would I find it? In reality, I really just wanted to get it out of my way without much feeling, but I guess sex has a way of putting feeling in a situation where there would typically be none.
But, this is me saying that I am now even-headed about this situation. I've finally gripped the reality of my feelings, and it's bittersweet. Not saying that I never liked him and that sex was the only reason why I had those feelings toward him. Just saying that sex magnified them to the point that I wasn't prepared or anticipating to have to deal with. This is a word of caution to all those over-thinking, seemingly steely virgins out there, really. Sex is like a drug: you don't really know how it's going to affect you until it's done its job, whether it's pleasant or, in my case, unpleasant.
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