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So if you've read my previous post, you'll know that I haven't had great relationships with men (that is only one example). So let's start at the very beginning. (It's a very good place to start.)
I was in a six-year relationship from about the age of 15 until I was 21 — all through school and university pretty much. Puberty is a big deal, a big big deal, during this age, for both boys and girls. Things start to grow in places, things start to happen, and you start to feel all these emotions that everyone experiences differently. Its a horrible, confusing time for a teenager. Now when you are in one of those boyfriend, girlfriend relationships while at secondary school and you've been together a long time (I say long time — to a teenager at school, six weeks is a long time) everyone kind of stops asking the question and just assumes that the answer is yes. That question... well, is SEX? Yes or No?
The answer for my relationship was no.
Believe me, there were moments when I really wanted to get it over with. You know "break the package open," as they say, but every time the moment came up (literally) I chickened out. It was like my body wouldn't allow me to do it. To be honest, between the ages of 15 - 18, sex wasn't that interesting to me. I was more in the love phase than I was in the get down and dirty phase. I was more interested in dreaming about marriage and babies, although how I thought I would have a baby without sex is beyond me. Anyway, I derailed a little... Although he certainly was wanting to have sex, he was always respectful and understanding, which made me love him more.
Between the ages of 18 - 21, it was more apparent that he started to get inpatient with me. I'm not surprised, to be honest. For a lad of that age who had not had sex, he was probably driving himself mad (or just satisfying himself enough to get through each day or he was sleeping around. Neither did I really want to imagine).
When the time, February 2014, came that he had enough and fell out of love, I was heartbroken. I blamed myself for not being brave enough. I thought that I must have not loved him as much as I thought I did... well, not enough to do it anyway or I was just angry at myself for being a pussy (basically). I vowed that the next guy I was going to date I was just going to do it. That was exactly what I did.
It was a Soldier, who travelled for at least an hour and half to see me. It didn't last very long, wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, but didn't rock my world, either. It was more of a "phew" moment.
He left soon after, which made me feel cheap and dirty. On the other hand, I was proud of myself. Now that barrier was over I could try and see other people, see what happens, and just move on from what was a horrible couple of months.
It turns out my boyfriend of six years was sleeping around, and even managed another relationship. His "other" girlfriend fell pregnant. It's been four years since that happened. To this day, I'm pretty sure my body wouldn't allow me to have sex with him because it knew what a scum bag he was. Now he has two boys with the same girl he cheated on me with. At least he is happy, right? And me? I'm in a happy relationship of two years. You'll hear more about the ups and downs of my relationships on here.
You're in for a bumpy ride. So fasten your seatbelt.