Have to Laugh
I have to laugh, there is really no other way. At the time I do cry, sometimes uncontrollably so, or it may just be a slow silent weep. But when it is over, and I’ve got some distance from whatever it was that made me cry I typically laugh. I’m not sure if it comes with my mentality to never keep a grudge but I tend to make a joke of it all, which may be way I keep getting myself into such absurd and hurtful situations. Maybe if I viewed the situations with the sadness and disgust they deserved I would not have some many things to laugh about now.
I lost my virginity when I was 16, in my driver’s ed teachers house, in his kids play room, with no door, next to Barbie’s mansion. Luckily it was not to my driver’s ed teacher, but instead to an asshole whom I had been hooking up with for a while. He was 22 and had already graduated from Culinary Arts school. For some reason he felt that it was appropriate to come back home and hang out with his younger sister’s friends. He could buy beer, so clearly none of us objected.
Looking back in makes perfect sense to me now why I liked him so much, he was so fucked up. I’m not sure what his damage was, because at that age I had not yet deemed myself an insightful non-licensed therapist. Thus I had not delved into what made him the way he was, but needless to say, if you are 22 and sleeping with a 16 year old there has got to be some sort of disconnect in your head. But again he could buy us beer, so I continued to lust after him.
One night, the beer he did buy us lead to a very drunken night out at the lake. There were only a few of us there that night so I had a better chance of getting his attention. The other girl there was his cousin, so my changes were great. At some point I was in his tent, and I experienced my first hook-up, beyond making out. At the time I was pretty numb from all the booze, but the following day I was both emotionally and physically in pain. I had bruises all over my body and my vagina was sore. I went to work and tried not to think about it. Several weeks later, with many beers taken in the same thing happened, this because the pattern for over four months.
We developed my first one-sided relationship. Having never had a boyfriend I had no reference point. I saw my other friends having boyfriends, but also having drunken hook-ups, so I didn’t think my situation was that unique. Eventually we fell into the routine of hooking up at parties then not speaking any other time. The night after I gave him a blow job, my first one, I told my friends that the next time we hooked up I would most likely end up having sex with him. At this point it had become a very pathetic and desperate situation that all of my friends could see. They told me I should stop hooking up with him in the event that I did end up wasting my virginity on him. I was too far in by that point, I was infatuated and wanted nothing more than to make us connected, and I believed sex was the only way to do it.
Which brings me to a night filled with booze, so much booze, weed and absinth. My fake and grossly pretentious friends wanted to have a wine and cheese party where they played trivial pursuit and discussed stuck up shit. What really happened was that a large shit show happened at my driver’s ed teachers house, where my friend was house sitting. Absinth is some crazy stuff that leads to insanity when consumed in large volumes. There were people climbing on the rooftop, walking around in nothing buy a quilt, and overall just acting insane. I only had one object that night however, and that was to create a relationship where one had not previously existed.
Even at the time I recognized the absurdity of the situation, we had one sleeping bag between the two of us and all that was separating us from the rest of the house was a few stands of beads. We had to move Ken’s convertible out of the way before we were able to have the most underwhelming experience of my life. The actual act lasts less than half the time of the first verse of Jeff Buckly’s Hallelujah. I clearly remember thinking to myself…that’s it? After the very quick act I got up the never to finally put it out there, “so does this mean we can hang out now?” After a long silence he replied, “Yea we’ll go hiking or something.”
We never went hiking, we never even had sex again. Things progressively got worse until I was able to go away to college. I wasted some much time trying to make him want me. Endless drunken nights waiting for him to show up at a party and then being heart broken when he would leave me half naked in a field somewhere.
Looking back I laugh, not necessarily about how he treated me or how painful it all was, but I laugh about how I lost my virginity and often tell the story to friends as a source of entertainment. I have always convinced myself that if make light out of my life, especially the really dark parts that I will not be ruined by them. But perhaps if I ever treated them with the severity they deserved I would not find myself in these “laughable” situation so often.