Boyfriend #1 with a side of Italian.

So after dating and hooking up with all these guys through out high school, I was still a virgin.  I remember when I was thirteen, I made a pact with myself to wait until I was eighteen to have sex.  Education has always been highly important to me, and I didn’t want my experience to be interrupted with getting pregnant, especially because I wasn’t 100% sure if I wanted kids or not.  So in October of 2007, I met Boyfriend #1.  My eyes spotted him before my head had a chance to catch up on the details.  I was very attracted to him with his brown hair, blue eyes, and facial structure, not to mention he was a year older and quite a bit taller.  I asked my friend at the house party we were at when this all happened, to pass along my phone number to him.  He called me later that night after I left, and I made a point of being brief with him over the phone to remain “mysterious.”  

After dating for two weeks and calling up the mutual friend that passed my phone number along and saying, “I’m still not sure how I feel about this guy.  Do I like him?  Do I?” I decided to take the plunge and agree to be his girlfriend.  We were together just over a month when we decided to have sex.  He had only had sex once before, and according to him, it had been in a dark, drunken stupor.  To my surprise, none of common misconceptions had played a roll in losing my virginity…there was no blood, and it didn’t hurt that bad, and it’s not like his dick was small or anything.

After that, we were pretty inseparable, and I was spending a lot of time with his family as he was with mine.  His parents were divorced and mine had just separated a few months before we got together, so he helped me through the process.  I graduated high school early in December and was then able to just work and save up money, so we were spending quite a few nights together, as well.

We dated until early March of the following year, so Boyfriend #1 and I were only together for six months.  We broke up six months before I was set to leave for college.  After breaking up, to my astonishment, I had learned that while we were dating, he had cheated on me with five other girls.  I spent the next two weeks on my friends’ couches, crying my eyes out every day for at least two hours at a time.  It was a bad first boyfriend experience, to say the least.

After I had recreated the Hoover Dam with my tears, I decided the only way I was going to get over him was to hook up with someone else.  That’s where Meatball came in.  He was two years younger than me, a drummer for my friend’s band, and very cute and mature for his age.  He had only had sex once prior to me as well, so I decided I would take the reigns and teach him a thing or two I learned from my teenage hormonal sex rage I had had for the last six months.  

It was a perfect arrangement: I was moving soon, and he was very popular amongst his female peers.  I loved picking him up from his shows, with all the sixteen year old girls whining about him going home with me instead of them.  It was empowering to not only be the one in charge in the bedroom, but to also make all those little girls jealous.  We had an agreement, of being fuck buddies unless he decided to develop feelings for another girl closer to his age.  It worked out perfectly.  

Coming closer to my move date, I dated two other guys (for no reason, really…what was the point)?  I had been dating this guy who was such a gentleman, my age, and had great charisma.  One night, however, he spent the night and I had a sex dream about Meatball and was apparently moaning his name in my sleep.  That kind of ruined it for him.  Then, I dated another guy who asked me upfront, “Are you still sleeping with Meatball?”  I guess our controversial age gap sex scandal had made quite the impact on both of our peer groups.  We tried having sex once, and he couldn’t keep it up.  That was that.

My learning experience from this was: if you need to get over someone or want to make your men try harder (or at least weed out the ones that can’t keep it up), hook up with a guy after a break up and hook up with him until you find someone else to date?  Maybe?  Well, this led to problems later…


So about that memoir I wanted to write someday…

As some of you may know, I have been saying for the last couple of years, “I can’t wait to write a memoir about my dating career leading up to the one.”  Well, as I get older and the fact that my mother thinks I will be a “crazy cat lady” some day, I have realized that dreams don’t always come true.  I may never find “the one,” and even if I did, well, who’s to say it will last, etc.

So I was thinking it would be fun to just write about these experiences now.  If I were to write it down later in life, I would risk losing the perspective I have now and sounding too much like an old lady at that point…losing the essence of said dating experience from age eighteen, etc.

Let’s start with just a little bit of background history, from ages three to seventeen.  And remember, if you find this stupid or uninteresting, you can stop reading at ANY TIME.

Pre-school, I remember I was three or four years old…and I had a crush on a boy named Andrew.  I don’t know why I had a crush on him, I remember he had a big head, but I would always sit as close to him as possible.  At that age, that means me scooting closer to him and him scooting away from me because he was convinced I had cooties.  Unfortunately, I don’t think I ever told Andrew how I felt, but then again, I don’t think I even knew how I felt…but I knew that I liked him or else I wouldn’t have tried to sit so close to him.

After pre-school, my male counterpart options increased greatly when I entered into kindergarten.  There were SO many cute boys: Ken, Adam, Andrew, Geoff…and I also encountered my first creep: Roly.  Roly (short for Rolando) for some reason caught the creep gene very early on.  From kindergarten through third grade, he was convinced that he had an amazing penis, and often flashed us or did weird air humping motions or would tell people to “suck it” on a weekly basis.  He tried to kiss me a few times, but I always made a point to embarrass him before he had a real chance.  Yes, I did send him to the bathroom crying before, and yes I resorted to physical violence by punching him in the back when we were in second grade.

During elementary school, I had achieved new experiences with the opposite sex.  I had held hands with three different boys, and kissed two on the cheek.  When middle school came around, things changed drastically.  I went from just having boyfriends just because I thought I was supposed to, and therefore settling for boys that I wasn’t necessarily interested in.  Then after the eight grade, something weird happened.  I went to summer school before entering high school, I knew way ahead of time that I wanted to get out of Kansas City as soon as possible, which meant graduating early.  During summer school, my eyes popped out of my head like a cartoon’s.  So many boys from every school in the district, aged fourteen to eighteen.  I started getting lots of attention, too much to know what to do with.

I began to get a little cocky and started dating around a lot through out high school.  I was hooking up with guy friends (however, no intercourse), making out with random cute boys, and falling in love with older men.  For some reason, when I hit the tender age of sixteen, I began attracting much older men.  Don’t ask me how, maybe it was my confidence, my unusual style, who knows.  I had a boyfriend that was twenty-three years old when I was sixteen.  After we broke up, I dated a twenty-six year old, and then a twenty-four year old.  Back then, it felt right, I felt much more intelligent than my peers and that I belonged with an older crowd.  Now, looking back, I am totally creeped out at the fact that men older than eighteen would give me the time of day.

So that is my introduction/prologue to this blog.  Hope you guys enjoy!


This is me and the 15-minutes-of-famous red pants I recently purchased.  For some reason, when I posted this picture to Facebook, in excitement of having the guts to buy red pants AND the fact that I rocked them, I got a semi-enormous response from my friends…mostly male.  Well, hopefully my posts will be as ‘shocking’ as these red pants were, and hopefully they will be appreciated and not looked at as ‘bad taste.’