Pink Floyd.

You know how they say your first time is suppose to magically and wonderful? Its not. Not one fucking bit. from what I remember it was awkward, sweaty, painful, and so uncomfortable. Have you ever tried to squeeze two inexperienced people on a twin bed? It is like watching a really fucked up version of cirque du soleil, on mute because someones mom is downstairs. He was my second boyfriend, and once again he was tall, blonde, blue eyed, and dorky. Oh and did I mention he was a football & soccer player?? He made me happy. He made me feel safe.why? Because there was no pressure and everything was so easy. He had never been kissed before, so I was his first everything. I remember the butterflies he use to give me. I wish he had been my first boyfriend but I wouldn’t change the fact he was the perfect guy for my first time. We will call him Floyd since I can remember the pink Floyd poster on his wall. He was a total nerd, and I loved it. Everything about him felt so wonderful. He was funny, and smart, and he was a great athlete. and I will admit I burned us to the fucking ground. Floyd and I took everything slow, and we would spend hours after school listening to music, and just hanging out. He tried to teach me how to play soccer, and got me into his world. our first time was talked about, and planned. It was very coordinated lol.  Floyd knew that before we had gotten together I had been raped by a guy who no longer went to our school. He knew the stigma that was attached to me, the psychological damage that had been done. He knew I was damaged goods. But I can say after I was raped I knew that I would never ever be able to love anyone, or let a make touch me. I felt so worthless, and disgusting. And yet he made me feel beautiful again, loved, and appreciated. when the day came for our first time, we had the house to ourselves. he played music, and we just sat there. It was adorable. looking at the floor, not looking at each other. But finally we decided to crawl under the sheets, very very awkwardly got undressed. We were smart for 15 year old’s, he had condoms, and we did it. As weird as it was I cried afterwards. not because it was horrible, but because I dont think anyone is prepared for the emotional impact it has on them. sex wasn’t just sex for us. It was so much more. I felt as if I gave him a piece of myself. Afterwards we were like rabbits, screwing everyplace we could, his room, the bathroom, his grandparents house. It was pretty insane. A few months later right before school started and almost to our one year anniversary, my mother decided to ship me back off to the east coast to live with her abusive ex bf. Her drinking was at a all time high, and she couldn’t handle the shame of having a rape victim daughter(her words not mine). I had suddenly watched my entire world collapse around me. I was finally happy, and in love, was starting to get my life together. I was shipped off within a month, a that’s when all my mental illnesses came to surface. I became suicidal, threatening to kill myself if my mother didn’t allow me to come back. I was scared, thrown back into my own personal nightmare. I thought floyd would be the one person I could talk to you, but I didn’t realize with him being so young he wouldn’t and couldn’t handle all the heavy shit I had thrown at him. It was almost selfish in the end to think a guy as young as he was would have stayed faithful, while his girlfriend was shipped across the country, with no return date. But he tried to hang in there as long as he could, and about 3 months of me being gone he ghosted me, no calls, no texts, no goodbye. I think I snapped because he was my last bit of happiness in such a dark place. I came back a year later, and he was angry towards me. He hated me. and even though I was confused I knew i earned it. It was all too deserving. That relationship is the one I always look back at, sadden with how things left off. It gave me insight on myself, and who I was. I knew after that I need help, and that as much as I wanted to say I was okay, and everything was fine, I knew I wasn’t. I couldn’t be in a stable happy place until I faced my demons, and dragging someone through the mud with me wasn’t fair. At the end of the day if I ever did speak to Floyd again, I would thank him for the wonderful memories, for loving me, and showing me I was worth being loved, and apologize. I dont know how he did it, but I am sorry that he had to be around for all that bullshit. but he deserved better

to the ones that got away

L.B