I lost my virginity at the delicate age of 16 to my best friend. He and I would stay up till all hours of the night talking on the phone about any number of intimate things including family, past relationships, hurts, hopes, joys and our mutual curiosity about sex. Neither one of us had been with anyone on that level and we decided that it would be safest to explore this uncharted territory with each other - someone we trusted and knew inside and out.
It was finals week of our junior year in high school and we had it all planned out as we had talked about our "first time" extensively. He didn't care about where or how it all went down, but I had high expectations due to my exposure to movies, music, etc. and I wanted it to be "perfect." I had voiced to him that I wanted it to be dark and romantic - candles, music, the whole nine yards. He tried his best to accommodate me, but dark and romantic turned into him hanging up towels over his bedroom window to block out the sunlight and Nirvana blaring over his alarm clock radio. He had also laid down old Muppet Babies sheets over his bed in case there was any bleeding involved. Very romantic.
It took us awhile to get it to "work" and I never felt any of the explosive things I had seen in movies - cries of ecstasy and moans of pleasure were things I never came close to and the whole thing was over and done in approximately 45 seconds. I was very disappointed, but covered it up for him and told him it was great and exactly how I had always imagined it to be. He felt like a rock star and I felt awful. I went home and cried buckets of tears for both my loss of innocence and my anti-climactic experience of sex as a whole.
Over the next few weeks, we decided to be in a committed relationship with each other and I had my first official boyfriend. I fell in love with this boy eventually - my best friend turned into something more. I let my heart go and it was fully his...I trusted him and thought he would never do anything to hurt me. When he left for school a little over a year later, he dumped me. He told me he was going to rush a fraternity and that he wanted to have the full experience of hooking up with random girls at parties; that he was sorry but we were young and obviously didn't have a future together. I was crushed, as he had never communicated to me that we didn't have a future together at any point and I very much thought in my young state of mind that we would eventually get married and have lots of babies.
This was my second time around of feeling disposable to men; the first being a result of my father leaving. From where I was standing, they had both left me for the same reason - other women. I thought that all I had given of my heart was worth nothing; that I was worth nothing.
More than a year went by before I gave my heart away again; this time to a man who would have given me anything I needed or asked for. He loved me unconditionally in spite of my "baggage" I brought to the table. He thought I was perfect and put me on a pedestal I couldn't stand on for long. I stepped off the pedestal eventually, broke his heart - and my own in the process. To this day, I have never been loved by a man as he loved me.
I carry my book of broken hearts with me every day. I have been on both sides multiple times and believe that there are few things worse than being the giver or the receiver of a broken heart. Being on the receiving end in this moment has forced me to reflect on my own patterns of behavior in life and love. A theme I am currently meditating on and praying through is how I put everything I have into someone I choose to love and let my identity be wrapped up in the exchange of hearts that inevitably happen over the course of time. I live in a paradox of serious trust issues and giving my heart away too quickly and too much to men who are emotionally unavailable for various reasons. I have been the "bridge" more than once for men - someone who helps them through a significant time period in their lives and gives them hope for a romantic future; just not with me on the other side.
My girlfriends are helping me to believe that my desire for authenticity, openness of heart, and deep connection with people is a beautiful and rare quality that I possess; that I only need to be more careful about how much I give of myself in the process before it has been reciprocated and deemed "worthy" of my gift. I am taking a hard look at why I have a tendency to love so hard and fierce far too quickly, and I know that it has to do with where I base my identity. I was created to love this way for a reason, but somewhere in the process I lose sight of the invaluable truth that my ability to be loved back does not lay in what I say or do not say; what I do or do not do; how I look or do not look. My identity should lie solely in how He views me and how He loves me. No other person and how they view me matters - not really; not in the end.
I am once again on a path of painful self-discovery and desire desperately to make a change in my perceptions. I am getting lost along the way and am very discouraged, but the Truth continually speaks to me in my darkest moments to let me know that I am well on my way and that unspeakably beautiful things are on the other side waiting for me.
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