Dear M,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do you remember when we first met? I was practicing baseball with my mom in the front yard – I was on little league then – and you were watching\u2026 getting close, but wouldn’t make the first move. My mother encouraged me to talk to you, to make a friend. And we became friends. Best friends. And I loved you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We explored the world together, even if the world was limited to M—— Lane. We built houses and fortresses, made up stories, and saved the world in our adventures. The world was small then. Our enemies were make-believe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You’ll always be the purest love I ever knew, and I don’t understand why it had to become so tainted. I wanted nothing but your friendship. I didn’t have a crush on you like I did on other boys, and I didn’t feel like I needed to pretend to be anyone other than myself around you. You were so safe and comforting. We just existed together, and we were inseperable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We were so young, and I knew what we were doing was wrong. Why did it have to change? I didn’t want to lose you, but you said you would leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Have you ever seen boy parts?”
“No”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours”
“I don’t want to”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You lifted your plaid shirt up anyways, quickly then quickly put it back down. You did it several times. I never saw anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Now you have to show me yours”
I don’t remember what I said
“I won’t be your friend anymore if you don’t”
“The neighbors might see”
“Come back here, no one will see us” You motioned behind the trailer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I stripped, slowly, and opened my legs to your gaze. I don’t remember what happened after I pulled my panties down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
How did it progress? I don’t remember.
How long did it go on? Because I don’t really know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do you remember the first time we had sex? Well, “real” sex anyways. I don’t remember when the looking became touching, and when the touching turned into you being inside of me, but I do remember the first time we had sex.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We would take turns about who would be on top. We had just switched, and I was on top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Do you know what sex is?”
“Yeah, it’s when we do this but your shirt is off”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was relieved for a moment, because I knew we were doing something wrong and dirty but at least it wasn’t sex.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Take your shirt off”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I did. I don’t remember what happened next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One day when were done and putting on our clothes, I asked you if we could try kissing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We already did that”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We didn’t, but I never argued. I was hurt, heartbroken at the time. Looking back, at least that’s one first of mine that you don’t have. I got to choose that one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I still wish I knew why you didn’t want to kiss me. Was I not good enough for you?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don’t remember how old I was, or if we had even stopped by then, but one day I was watching a movie with my dad. One of the characters had bragged about losing their viriginity at 14. I remember trying to decide whether or not being 6 and losing your virginity was really all that much worse than 14.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The guilt was overwhelming – nearly 20 years later and I still can’t make it go away. It’s soul-consuming.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dear M, Do you remember when we first met? I was practicing baseball with my mom in the front yard – I was on little league then – and you were watching\u2026 getting close, but wouldn’t make the first move. My mother encouraged me to talk to you, to make a friend. And we became friends. Best friends. And I loved you. We explored the world together, even if the world was limited to M——… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=53"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":85,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53\/revisions\/85"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=53"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=53"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=53"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}