The Boyfriend Situation

So I got on the subject of my first “real” boyfriend tonight on Twitter & it got me thinking about it all. In the bigger picture I mean. I had a wonderful relationship, it was loving, it was kind & it was nurturing.

He was older than me. When he met me I was 14 & he was 18. MySpace things, he fell in love with my eyes & my taste in music, my taste in life. We were both the weird little black children with weird so called “Oreo” interests. Plus I was foreign. The foreign always hooks American's easy.

I lied & told him I was 15 & then when I turned 15 I told him the truth.

He freaked.

I remember it so well.

Because I was crying my eyes out, in honest fear that he'd never want to speak to me again & my precious little innocent self sincerely couldn't fathom that as a possibility.

A boy liked me, a boy I could talk too.

I wanted him to stay.

& he did.

For a while, no sex. I remember our first date. I don't remember if we did something specific but I do remember him taking me to this park around his neighbourhood. We sat next to each other in the dark on a park bench & talked, laughed, vibed.

With a boy I liked.

When previously? I had found it next to impossible to even open my mouth around an attractive member of the opposite sex. It rained on us that night & he took me to his house to wait the rain out , then he took me home.

& that was the start of the beginning of a more than adolescent 'Me'.

It was a growth unmonitored by anyone. My mother could never outwit me with a computer, I hacked into everything she tried to prohibit me from with ease so of course she'd be blatantly ignorant of my activities on MySpace, activities that included finding myself a boyfriend in college.

He waited for me though. I was obviously a virgin & not the kind easily bullied by any sort of outside pressure. My intelligence made this impossible. He understood this, might even have been a reason to like me even more. I'd spend entire nights on the phone with him then I'd hang up, when it was time to go to school. Every day was filled with constant communication with this individual, constant meaningful communication.

With a boy I liked.

I'm sorry, but as I recall all of this, it's all so unnatural to me now. All so surreal, do these boys still exist? I've become so accustomed to only being seen as a sex object that I completely forgot about this entire process.

I forgot about this sincerity.

We'd talk for days, entire weekends, just sharing useless information about one another, meaningless information that only made us fall deeper in love with. Or whatever you'd call it. He loved me, at a time where I needed male affection most.

It should've come from my father.

But I suppose a sincere boy in love isn't that bad. My 'How I Lost My Virginity' story is pretty blessed compared to some of the tales I've been privy too. No cheating, STD sharing asshole here.

I lost it in love.

I don't regret that.

I won't say 'lost'. I surely mean 'found'.

I'm sitting here, just going through flashbacks, remembering all the little things & I'm overcome with wonder.

Did this really happen?

Or did I dream it all?

My perfect skater boy who rocked his skinny jeans & fucked up skate shoes with pride. He loved all of me. My mess, my insanity, my writing, my art. My ancestry, my body, even before he'd even seen it naked.

& he never rushed me. Never belittled me in anyway.

He never lied to me.

I'm honestly trying to remember if I ever suspected him of dishonesty, but I just can't recollect any trace of deceit in his person. He told me everything, about everyone, every stupid girl, every stupid decision regarding girl he had ever made.

He wanted to marry me. He used to talk about our house, who we'd live next to, the study he'd build for me & I remember being on the other end of that phone with a stupid little smile on my face listening to his promises, listening to his love.

So what happened?

How did I turn from this?

We simply weren't meant to be in the end & I was the one to make the decision. Another one, I don't regret. I only wish I had done it for the right reasons, i.e., myself.

But I left him for another boy, who in turn shattered my ego to pieces.

You get what you give.

& after my heart/ego was shattered, for some reason, I just refused to remember all this damn goodness. I refused to remember all that damn love. Maybe because the embarrassment, the pain & the guilt would've been too much. So I resigned myself to pretend as though I had never known love.

The same love I call back today & smile upon could've helped me when I lay in bed crying over a nigga that did not deserve me.

I took the wrong set of rules into the game. Instead of remembering all the joy love had brought me, I chose only to focus on the immediate pain & I let it define me. I suddenly became 'heartless'. Unwilling to love, only wanting to fuck. Sex then being my drug of choice. Remember my 72 hour rule? Any nigga that put himself around me for more than 72 hours? I immediately became sick of & would erase from my life without question.

I could no longer distinguish sincerity from deception within the tale of 'The Pursuit of Frank's Box'.

That hesitation was only a result of pain. I closed so many doors to opportunities of love because in all honesty, I had forgotten how to love entirely. I had forgotten how to be loved.

But now I remember.

Love for me? Is ….

Foreign movies & Sour punch straws.

Cuddling on a blanket, in the park under the stars being taught an impromptu lesson in astrology.

Strip video games.

Debates about porn.

Texts when you say you'll text.

Calls when you say you'll call.

Emails.

MySpace messages.

For no reason other than to say;

'I love you so much'

Hands to wipe the tears my absent father caused away.

Humour to make every bad day seem okay.

A kiss on my forehead, on my cheeks & on my chin before my lips every morning I wake up & every night I fall asleep.

Post it notes on my mirror, telling me how beautiful I am.

Giving me reasons to dress up just so you can undress me.

& love, every part of me.

He knew of my mind before he ever knew my body.

& I think that is the most important distinction when it comes to a brain such as mine. I covet recognition in that sense. I would rather have you tell me how beautifully intelligent I am than marvel at the length of my eyelashes, something I have no control over. Something, I actually didn't create for my self.

After him?

Everybody just wanted sex.

Sex. Sex. Sex.

Everyone was in love with my appearance, in love with the surface, saw a pretty girl outside & painted me 'generic' on the inside without even bothering to investigate. Not that I ever even gave anyone the chance to get that close to me. I made the mistake of fucking, thereby instantly eliminating in my man eater mind, the ones who possibly wanted much more than sex.

& for all the sex I did have, nothing has ever seemed to compare to those marathon ones with that boyfriend.

Objectively speaking, in comparison to the sexual adventures I partook in with him? I've been starving myself. I should in fact, have starved myself into complete oblivion already.

In comparison to that?

I'm sexually anorexic.

My heart is howling with laughter at my vagina right now.

Howling I tell you.

So now as I sit here & remember this wonderful relationship, that wonderful communication? That example I should've carried as a badge during the rest of my encounters with the opposite sex was completely forgotten & I deluded myself into thinking I was happy with scrambling for romantic croutons.

Why didn't I take his memory with me?

I need to understand that of myself. Why was his bliss so easily forgotten, while instead I chose to lament over the fool I left him for?

The fool that knows she is a fool is wise indeed.

I will take care to correct myself when I say I'm not the girl friend type.

Because, by what I remember, it was exceedingly easy for me.

So I shouldn't say “I'm not the girl friend type” when asked “Why don't you have a boyfriend?”

I should instead say.

“No one has been good enough.”

Because really, that boy? Loved & moulded me to be loved.

Outside of the promise of seeing me naked.

No one has offered me such security since.

Which is why, I have for the most part, been 'single' since.

But shout out to my first love for putting down the rock solid foundation of self love I so desperately needed.

I will never forget what you gave me.

& I'm FINALLY putting it into use.