I finally turned 18 and started dating a just-turned-29 year old guy (mom and Dad if you are reading this, you might want to skip the next sentence or two, or maybe just the whole first paragraph). He taught me about love making and sex and I found that I was the type of person who had tastes for either depending on the night. He taught me how to feel sexy and introduced me to lesbian porn. He also gave me his permission to sex up ladies anytime I wanted to and reassured me that he would give me the space to do it comfortably. It was the first time that I gained confidence. I lost weight, kept in shape and turned my life around.
He had travelled lots and lived lots, having so many wonderful stories about backpacking across Canada and hanging out with some different covens. He had such an exciting life, with so much knowledge that he picked up along the way. But with me he found himself finally ready to settle down and have kids. I found myself finally wanting to live. To make and accomplish goals. To go places and be something. So we went our separate ways and I continued to get better. I finally started to get some chances to find out what intimacy with a woman was like after he was gone when I spent some decent time getting close with some of my bisexual friends. I surprised my parents by going back to high school, even more so when I got good grades and graduated, and even furthermore when I applied to University on my own, then decided to go back for a double shock when I got accepted, AND even picked out my courses and went. It was hard though. This was stuff that JR talked to me about, loans and grades and all that university crap, it was one of the last long conversations we had. It was like I was following in his footsteps when I got accepted. It had some comfort, but on another level it felt like he should be there, giving me advice to get through everything. I struggled with this my entire first year, it was hard to ignore since he was so associated with university, thus every building and every classroom. I wondered about him, I imagined him sitting in classes, and I dreamt of him. Some days I found myself thinking back to how I used to get so pained by it that I just wanted to carve his name in my arm. Instead I imagined getting his name tattooed where I could hide it. It just seemed unacceptable to still be mourning him, so I just didn’t talk, I just listened. Before my first year of university started during that last summer at my own place I managed to get out of the house once and ended up being followed around and hit on by the usual stalkers. Using a smoke break to take off I bumped into an old acquaintance and we chatted before I admitted that I had to take off to go out walking(Cant sleep when I’m buzzed) before I headed home. They ended up joining me, even though the night was young, and I spent the next over six hours with them walking around talking about everything. It was sweet and nice, and respectfully (since I ditched the party to avoid being hit on all night) didn’t end with another proposition. They spent a decent time at the gym across from my job and apartment and managed to often be heading in or leaving when I was locking up the restaurant that I worked at. It was nice to chat with someone all summer when I had pretty much ditched most of my old friends that were still around town. We ended up hanging out at least every week, walking around, chatting, talking about working out(which we both loved and spent many hours on) and catching movies together. We both knew that when the summer ended that both of us had unfinished business in two different universities. Somehow they had whittled their way into my mind and heart. The last time we got to see each other, I had just entered my first week of university and we hit up dinner and a movie. There was so much energy in both of us until it was finally time to say our goodbyes. It would have been easier if they didn’t have such an intoxicating smile, a face so full of emotion, and eyes that just bore down inside me. There was some silence, things were left unsaid. Luckily, afterwards, when I thought about them I really shone. I remembered the connection. I remembered not having to say anything to communicate. I remembered that intoxicating smile that just made me feel so loved. I didn’t dwell on being so far from each other. I spent the last month and a half in town preparing myself to handle them leaving. They brought me so much joy and that is what I wanted to remember, I didn’t want to ever cry about them. So I didn’t …. much.
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Kris
I am a Bi+Trans geeky student who is all about Gaming, Music, Drawing, Writing, Anime, Comic books, and Web comics. Categories
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April 2016
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