This is the third and final part of my sad tale of lost virginity. I feel like it wasn’t lost, but rather it was stolen. That’s why I’m kind of glad this is the last section. I’m tired of writing about it, tired of thinking about it, and just plain tired of reliving it in my mind. But here goes…
Sadly, that’s kind of what it turned out to be. My mindset on losing my virginity was more like “Oh yeah, something really special and really amazing happened with someone I love.” After Cinderella and I finally did it (twice), I thought everything would only get better from there. I was wrong. It went the other way. It went the other way pretty quickly. More quickly than I ever could have imagined.
I think we only hung out one more time after our second sexual escapade, and we did not engage in sexual activity. I repeat: we did NOT engage in sexual activity. I’m starting to sound like Clinton, but you get the point. Unless you consider a few kisses a form of sexual activity. There wasn’t even oral sex. Something had changed in her. It seemed like there was something upsetting her, and when she told me what it was, I was disappointed to hear the usual early-twenty-something girl drama pour out of her mouth. I thought it would be something more substantial, something more meaningful.
I believe our last time hanging out was sometime in March. She planned for us to go to Kennywood in June and that made me really happy. Going to a nice place with an even nicer person. Needless to say, it never happened. Between March and June, she started to become distant. Fewer phone calls, fewer texts, fewer everything. It seemed like our roles were reversed in just a year’s time.
This time around, I was the one doing the texting. I was the one doing the calling. I was the one making all the effort and doing all the talking. It just felt weird. In the words of a man I knew in describing his wife suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, “It was like something crawled inside her. That’s just not her.” That “something” came very suddenly and very forcefully.
After four months of trying to make plans and trying to talk with her, I finally “confronted” her (if you could call it that, considering it was via text). I’m a wimp, I know. She gave me the “busy” and “I lost my job and I’m broke” lines (which, in all fairness, were true) but I knew something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the Cinderella I knew. Yes, she worked and went to school. She was busy. Yes, she lost her job and couldn’t afford to go to Kennywood.
But something just wasn’t right…and I was going to dig it out of her.
I can’t remember exactly what I said that triggered the response, but at this point I don’t even want to remember. The response I got was, in her exact words, “I think you should know I’ve been seeing somebody and we’re probably going to be dating soon.” Those few words were burned into my mind like a bad cigar.
It felt like my mind exploded, followed by my heart shortly thereafter. After chasing me for an entire year, me finally giving in (at my own will), Cinderella and I finally starting to hang out and really get to know each other, she left me. Just like that. She fucked me in more ways than one. She literally fucked me, then fucked me over.
Her words instantly sucked all the remaining energy I had in me at that time. It was late, probably around 11pm or midnight when she told me. I was so distraught I didn’t have the mental capacity, let alone desire, to argue with her or even have her explain. But of course she did anyways. She claimed I “wasn’t the Ryan Sullivan” that she fell in love with. That it took me a whole year to even acknowledge her. That when I finally asked her out to dinner, she went out and bought a dress and I didn’t even call her.
Once we had sex, she claimed, something “clicked.” Something “didn’t feel right.” During our “relationship” she said she loved me. She was truly happy and satisfied with what was going on. But, after she finally fucked me, something just “changed.” She couldn’t even explain what it was and I wasn’t going to ask her to try.
I wished her and her new man the best of luck, and told her to give him my birthday present that she bought for me (I don’t even know what it was because I never got it). Most importantly, I told her not to do to him what she did to me. He must have been a pretty good guy, right? Either that, or he had a big penis. Or some weed. In any case, I finally let down my guard for a woman I thought was really special.
I took a gamble and lost. I gave someone a chance that probably didn’t deserve it. I gave my virginity to someone that most likely just wanted a quick fix. I can’t say for sure, but the proof is in the pudding. She’s not here, and I’m not there. We’re apart. We don’t speak. It’s done. Just like that.
If there’s anything positive I can take away from this experience, it’s that virginity is a precious thing. You should take good care of it when you have it, and give it up to someone that you don’t think cares about you, but that you know cares about you. Even if you’re not in a true relationship, it should be with someone that’s not going to get in, get out, and get going.
I didn’t think with my penis, and I still lost. Sometimes life’s a bitch.