I was always a pretty sexual person, for some reason I only felt like I'm worth even a nickle, if someone wanted to get their ways with me. Also for some reason after I'd lost my virginity I found it pretty rough to control my earges. I craved intimassy even when I was single, I wasn't capable of functioning without getting some action. I was wild and constantly ready for some more, I had this punding passion that just bursted out of me at one point and I just couldn't have seem to ease it down.
Well, out of the blue it all had changed, I haven't had any intimate contact, not even as much as a kiss with a guy since I've broken up with my ex. I've been banging my head against the wall for quite some time now, but I'm still incapable of finding a solution to it. Obviously I'd be lying if I said that I don't miss sex or passion, or for someone to push me against the wall out of pure affection and kiss me from head to toe. Nevertheless I can't seem to not get freaked out by anyone - for that matter- trying to get their ways with me. I feel stifled and smothered every time some guy leans even a bit close to me.
To sum it up it's basically my urges against my interpretations of intimissy. Someone has told me that after my last relationship I'm probably gonna start experiencing some kind of a resurrection or rebirth...I've ruminated on this thesis for weeks now, and the only solution I've got was that if I had reborn that means I would have to lose my virginity once again. This line of thoughts actually freaked the shit out of me, because I've started to monitore all of my moves and retrace my tracks ever since the break up, and I have the exact same curiosity for sex as I had when I was a virgin and the same timidity. So where does that leave me?! Have I just got a second chance to relive my first time, the big losing of my V card?
For these thoughts you're gonna need some backround story, a subtext if you will. My first time wasn't exactly a fairytale make. I'd always imagined losing my flower with my first love, my first boyfriend. First we would've gone to a fancy restaurant, he would've said some super corny and cheesy shit, which I would've adored. After the dinner we would've went back to his place, had some wine and then he would've put on some super erotic, a semiporn kinda shit, lit some candles and then on the sea of kisses and hugs he would've deflowered me, and it would've been magical.
Newsflash boys and girls, fairytales don't exist and the thing that you plan out carefully and precisely never ever happens. So in reality was 17, I had just travelled to Spain to study the language, all alone, without any parental supervision or survaillance whatsoever. So naturally I had this danish roommate, who was a loser but he had introduced me to his friends and there was this dude, who was the exact doppelganger of my first crush. So it goes without saying, on the second night they'd got me drunk -I mean I was 17, how should'v I knew - so after the hundredth shot I found myself in this club, and him next to me, pulling me out of the club, and kissing me in front of it. My head was pounding, my whole vision was a blure and my better judgement had went home hours ago, leaving me with one wise sidenote /fuck this shit, we're dead in the water/. So with that carepackage, I'd decided that I don't have anything to lose, I mean my virginity is just something that I have to get out of the way so the fun can start. Not my proudest moment...So I did it, I got it out of the way, it goes without saying that my parents got an incoherent mumbling call the next morning, begging them to book me a flight and help me get the fuck out of Spain. Yep, so I had managed to scare the shit out of the people I love the most, then hung up and went to school. Some magical fairy godmother type os phenomenon must've appeared to me at school because after my classes, I didn't feel any resentment, or regret, I only felt this weird tingly excitement. So the fun had begun so to speak. After that awkward and not at all enjoyable intercourse /during which the dude had no fucking clue, that I was a virgin/ I had started making the worst possible decisions, until my ex came along.
Now that all of you are up to speed, I can illuminate my newest realization. After that precarious first time slash one night stand, which just for the record turned into a pretty decent relationship, I've always wanted to erase, to obliterate the whole experience and not just from my mind but from my past, but sadly I haven't been able to resolve the myth of time travelling. So the alleged second time around, I couldn't help but getting my hopes up. Perchance it could be my unique and weirdly plausible last shot. I mean could it be that my luck had turned, that I had overcome so many obstacles and took so much crap from every goddamn person in my surrounding that I've earned the right for a second chance?! I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe this whole crap pie that was my last relationship actually has a silver lining?! I got my panties in a wad about having a shitty luck for so long that my gut would actually fail to notice me about the unmissable rewards for my suffering?! I'm either way over my head here, being disturbingly optimistic, or it's just my crooked mind that developed some new form of vivid imagination, whatever this is, I am eagered to find out the truth behind it.
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