Eating my Words

To eat one’s words – to have to take back one’s statements; to confess that one’s predictions were wrong.

We’ve all had to do it at some point and some of us do it more often than others. Some of us don’t even like to admit when it’s happening… denying every bite as we chew our way through painful realizations… that was me.

I was that girl – the one who claimed she’d never have sex with the wrong guy, never have sex too early in a relationship, never get herself into a situation that she wasn’t able to emotionally recover from… never never never, so full of I would nevers. Did I trash other people? No. Did I try to impose my “rules” on others? No. I simply retained that highfalutin idea, “I’m not stupid enough to let anything like that happen to me.” Well, you guessed it. I was. More importantly, I learned that intelligence had nothing to do with it, but I’ll come back to that.

For a long time, I was a big girl… girthy, if you will 😛 This kept me from dating until I slimmed down at the spinster age of 24. I say spinster, not because single 24 year olds are spinsters, but having my first date ever at 24? Yeah, I was definitely spinster. But I did it, I lost the weight. It was finally my time to be “normal” – to date, to be in a relationship, to kiss and cuddle, to fight with my boyfriend and make up, to have sex, to meet families and celebrate holidays together… everything everyone I knew had already been doing for 8 years. Wait, let’s just think about that for a second, I was 8 years behind. Wow, what a waste.

How does an inexperienced girl get her feet wet? Online dating. Ahh yes, folks, that’s right. I wanted to get out of my comfort zone by staying in my comfort zone. It worked, to a certain extent, up until I was forced out of that comfort zone and I found myself insanely nervous to be meeting people who I already felt a connection with. It seemed to up the stakes. Fast forward a bit to my first boyfriend. We met, things were amazing, we started dating, I was crazy about him. Fast forward a little further, we ended up having sex pretty early on in the relationship. He knowingly took my virginity and it was… well, there were no fireworks. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant either. I won’t go into details, this isn’t that kind of blog 😛 but it was definitely disappointing. I didn’t notice anything being weird about the way he left the next morning; he kissed me, said he’d call, said goodbye, blah blah. When I didn’t hear from him the next day, I started to wonder if what I’d been hoping to avoid was actually happening… had I been played? Was he done with me now? It certainly felt that way and I was already kicking myself for having sex that early on, breaking one of my “I would never…” rules. I texted him the next night, trying to be casual, hoping I was just over analyzing. His response paralyzed me. He really was done with me. He said I was “too easy”. That was it. 24 years of waiting and that’s how it all went down. My first time had happened and it was never going to be a happy memory for me. I regretted it, there are few things I regretted more, actually.

So there I was, sinking in the residue of what I had promised to never do. I had sex with the wrong guy. I had sex too early in a relationship (whatever that means anyway). I’d been played. I’d gotten myself into a situation that I wasn’t really experienced enough to know how to handle normally. I was having to eat my words and I’d love to say that I was doing so gracefully, but I wasn’t. I fought it… hard.
Only now, 4 and a half years later, am I able to realize it wasn’t all my fault, and that what happened actually helped me understand people better, understand relationships better, understand sex better. That’s what I was talking about earlier, learning that intelligence didn’t matter here. Entering relationships trying to think logically and keeping it all “in the head” is no way to go about things. There is a balance needed, but I was trying to make the heart a rational beast, when it’s not. I was trying to make sex and lust a rational beast that could be tamed, and I was devastated when I found myself incapable of taming it when I felt things were “right”. While it didn’t work out for me, I am, in a way, happy that it happened the way it did. I am not the judgmental harsh ice queen I once was. This was a lesson I genuinely needed to learn the hard way. I now understand and sympathize so much better when people talk of making mistakes they regret. Yes, it was a mistake, a mistake that hurt me deeply and one I’m still struggling to recover from. However, I have to acknowledge, and feel grateful for, the way it also changed me for the better.



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