My First Time
(I have gifs in the middle of this post and they load slow at first. If u get a broken link just refresh hehe -BD)
Red Flags.
One time, when I was a wee young lad of 19, an artist friend blocked me.
They saw that I unfollowed their twitter, and took great offense to that.
I unfollowed because they would retweet political posts constantly, and I hated seeing that mixed into my feed.
I thought about it for months; we talked to each other quite a bit, and I thought we were pretty close friends. I felt angry and guilty because maybe I was the one being too sensitive.
I'd later reach out with an alt account, apologizing and wishing them the best.
They'd end up responding a while after, and we rekindled our "friendship". I didn't know at the time, but I was being a complete pushover. Every conversation we had I'd have to watch my language, as to not spark another passionate debate.
I was infatuated with this person. Looking back, I didn't know why I was. They were hard headed and sensitive. Argumentative and morally superior.
We'd end up long distance dating a year later, meeting up twice to fuck, trying to make the distance work.
Airport.
It was the most alien thing; sleeping in someone else's bed somewhere far away.
-in another state.
Smelling their smells, eating their food, sitting on their couch... I wanted to leave, but I was stuck for a few days.
So scared of a night alone with them.
So unsure and immature.
Before going up there, I had told them I wanted to sleep in the same bed, but I wasn't ready to fuck.
We fucked. It was my first time. I gave in to physical touch, and didn't resist. I regret not saying no.
I don't consider it forced, because in the moment I was consenting.
I was broken after that night. I gave into my carnal urges, and let myself be swoon.
Like always, I gave them what they wanted. I didn't speak up and just agreed. I wanted so badly to be their friend.
The rest of my time there I acted like a different person. All of my predefined standards had been crushed, and I was now a weak-willed man.
...
Later down the road, the long distance up-keep was too much for me. I couldn't stand the constant checking in and talking on the phone. The constant asking of where I was or what I was doing.
The expectation that I could provide the same kind of effort.
The fact that I was starting to realize that I might be easy to manipulate.
I wanted something that I couldn't have, and they knew this. I felt deep down that if I said or did anything wrong, they'd leave me again.
There was a power dynamic, an unexplainable attraction to someone who left me, and someone who I saw as pure and just.
It was me that was the problem, not them.
I unfollowed them.
I put up unfair boundaries.
I was too inattentive.
I should live my life under their boot because I'm in the wrong. I'm the bad guy making up for my mistakes.
...
I blamed myself for everything.
I was just too immature to handle these feelings, and had no outlet as a closeted gay kid. I couldn't ask my mom or dad what to do. I was too embarrassed to ask my friends because I felt like everything was my fault anyway.
I broke up with him on my lunch break over text-
sobbing in my car because I couldn't handle the stress.
He tried to reach out a few days later, begging me to get back together.
I don't remember if I responded. But I blocked him.