All the personality of a Pet Rock

Thomas was everything I ever wanted. He was sexy, came from money, sweet and caring. He might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed but he did have his moments where he said things that were fairly profound. My sister says that he had the personality of a pet rock... but what can I say? He was my pet rock.

I met him two days after having been dumped by the guy that I destroyed a two and half year relationship for. He asked me out the very night I met him... rather ballsy for him. He was 20, I was 18. He had never had a girlfriend before, and never had sex before. And he worshipped me. He was your classic Ugly Duckling kid. Based on the photos I've seen of him in High School, it was clear why he didn't have any friends or any kind of social life. He was the definition of geeky, still watched cartoons and collected comic books. But for some reason, I just fell madly in love with him. It was the first time that I was ever sure that I completely and totally was in love. I would have done anything for that boy.

We dated for just over a year when I got bored the first time. I cheated. Then I broke up with him.
Two weeks later, I missed him so much that it hurt. He took me back.

Our relationship was rough for a while after getting back together. His family, who didn't like me very much to begin with, hated me. But I think that us having to work through all those outside problems is what kept our relationship fresh and interesting to me. Apparently, I love drama. I live for drama. After the two more years that passed, his family and our friends started to reaccept our relationship and everything got much easier. We were happy, we were thinking about moving in together. And I was bored.

Over the years together, he became best friends with my room mates boyfriend, Jacob*. When Jacob and Marlena* got married, Thomas was the best man, and I was one of the bridesmaids. The wedding was two weeks after I broke up with him. I broke up with him because I met, Matt*, and Frankie* and then finally, I met Rick*. The first two were just flings that I had on the side. But Rick showed potential. He could be the next relationship. I thought a lot about whether or not I should break up with Thomas and give Rick a try, or just give Rick a try on the side. Eventually, I decided to do the right thing and break up with Thomas. At the wedding, two weeks later, I found out from a friend that apparently Thomas had bought a ring and was planning to propose after the ceremony. And I felt this feeling of remorse that I had ruined everything. But oh well. I had made my bed and it was time to lie in it. At the end of the reception, Thomas asked if I had yet slept with Rick. My response was, "Well, I gotta get my kicks somehow." Thomas just blankly stared at me and said, "you're sick." and walked away. Maybe he is right, maybe I am sick. I did warn you that I am an asshole.

But what I didn't know was that Rick had just had his heart broken by his previous girlfriend... and was in no rush to be in another relationship. But who doesn't like sex, right?

the next part gets complicated

the second boyfriend was everything that the first was not.
He was sexy, he was intelligent, he was sweet, my family loved him... and he was loyal.
Our relationship lasted for two and a half years. We achieved every major teenage milestone while hand in hand. Ring Ceremony, Homecomings, Junior Prom, Senior Prom, Graduation... and entering college to start our grand lives as adults.
And adulthood hit us hard only one week after graduation. When I discovered that I was pregnant.

It was a slip up in my birth control. It is only 99% affective after all. You might think that we had a difficult decision to make, but in reality, it didn't even seem like a decision at all. The abortion was scheduled the very same day that he was to return from Senior Week (since I wasn't aloud to go) and our parents and friends needed never to be the wiser. It was going to be a difficult week for me, just waiting for him to return and knowing that everyday I had something inside of me that was growing.

It became even more difficult when I received the text message: "I think that maybe we should be friends"

I had had enough. Fuck standing by and letting him have all the fun while I was stuck home, working and worrying. I had just graduated from high school too! I was going to college in the fall too. This baby was not real, and I wasn't going to let it ruin us. So I begged my best friend for use of her car and off we went the next day to confront him in a beach city some four or five hours away. When we arrived, he was pretty easy to trick into meeting us, since my friend never mentioned that I was with her. And as he walked towards me... the hickeys on his neck seemed to grow darker and darker. I fell over with remorse. Why did this matter to me? It never mattered when the first one cheated... and this one at least broke up with me first. I climbed back in the car and stayed there and cried until my friend was ready to leave. Thank God for her. 

When he came home early, the very next day. He cried and swore it was a mistake and he was sorry. He went with me to the abortion clinic and told me how much he loved me. After all was said and done, I truly believed his sorrow and believed that I could not live without him, and I took him back.

We began college in the fall, at separate schools but still saw each other often enough. We both made new friends, and learned new information. After only one semester, he was dull to me. I realized that there was so much out there for me to experience and to stay with my high school boyfriend was just not something that I wanted all of a sudden. But I had no idea how to do it. We had been through so much together, and he was so in love with me. One night, we were lying in bed when he decided that it was the time to confess to me the truth. Those hickeys did not happen the night after he broke up with me, but the night before... because he was scared of what was happening. Five months had passed where we lived this lie. And I could not be more relieved then when he told me this. Not because I was upset or had ever suspected the truth, but because I could pretend that I was.

Only two days before the truth was outed... I had met someone very interesting. Someone who was five years older then me, and knew a lot more about the world then I did at my very young 18 years of age. And he knew way more then my high school boyfriend. My mother warned me about him. "There is a huge difference in age between 18 and 22," she would tell me. And its not until now that I know just how right she was. But I could pretend to be upset, except that in reality, I was relieved to have a reason to try out this new and interesting character.

He had sex with me once, then told me that I was "too young" and kicked me to the curb.

For the first time in my life, I was alone. With no guy to fall back on.
Thats when I met Thomas*







*name has been changed... but this one is so epic that he needs a name.

this is the beginning of the story...

I sit here before my macbook laptop, crying. This is the first time that I have cried in months. And I don't even really fully know why I am crying. I just spoke to my most recent ex on the phone, him trying to tell me what an amazing person that I am, and all I know is that I am an asshole. And until about five minutes ago, I accepted that. I never understood my impulses, nor really cared who or what they affected. As long as I felt rightous in my choice at that exact moment, who gives a fuck really? But maybe, just maybe if someone else knew my story, the way that I do... they could help me understand. And thats why I am sitting in front of my Macbook laptop, crying.

In all fairness, the tears have stopped now. Because as I gingerly caress the keyboard, I already know that this will help.

I guess I should start at the beginning, its really the only place to start. I lost my virginity when I was 15. I was head over heals for that boy. But I never loved him. I didn't even think that I loved him. When he cheated on me the first time, I didn't even care. I broke up with him, of course. I had to save face at school, you see. But no one was really surprised when we got back together a week later. It wasn't until after the sixth time that he cheated, on my 16th birthday, that I met the next man of my dreams. I spent the following month cheating, emotionally, on my boyfriend by beginning to not be head over heals for him... and focusing all my attention on the next potential boyfriend. When that one kissed me, I promptly broke up with the first and never looked back on him.
That was six years ago.
That "boy" still tells me every single time he sees me that he loves me. And he regrets every mistake he made. And he has asked me, "Please don't punish me for the mistakes I made as a boy, now that I am a man."
But what he doesn't seem to understand is that our breakup had very little to do with the fact that he cheated... and everything to do with the fact that I met someone new.