Tag Archives: relationships

He Intended To R-word Me!

But my friend saved me when she walked in on us!

The following anecdote deals with sensitive subject matter.
Reader discretion is advised.

When I was 15, a good friend of mine, AM (with whom I am still good friends), matched me up with a guy she knew. He was 14.

It all seemed fine.

I mean, we were all looking for some summer romance, someone to hold hands with and kiss a bit. But that was basically it. I mean, at 15, that’s all I wanted; attention from a guy in those ways.

So I meet this guy, we’ll call him Y (because my best friend calls him Yuck, and rightly so), and we start kind of dating. We’d take walks in the evening as the sun would set, and he seemed nice enough.

At 15, I was also very interested in hanging out with my friends, and AM and I loved hanging out with some of her neighbours and her sister.

We set a basketball date at the park one day; we were going to all meet up there. AM mentioned she might come by my place. I was alone at home upstairs in my mom’s duplex. I left the door unlocked for AM.

Y came by early, so we sat on my bed chatting.

He had other things in mind, however.


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“I Should Have Slept With You When I Had the Chance!” he said.

But our relationship was a Flirtmance!

So, I should preface this by disclaiming that I am happily married, but that does not prevent me from appreciating people from my past or what they meant to me back then.

The Backstory

Shortly after my abusive relationship, I was working in a theatre and there was this one actor rehearsing for a play (we’ll call him P) who would chat with me every shift I had. It began as small talk, but after a while turned into a bit of a subtle Flirtmance.

As an usher, sometimes I would spend my time sitting on a bench just outside one of the theatre halls in case a spectator needed assistance or something. We’d take turns with different tasks, and I got to watch a lot of plays that way. I worked evenings and some matinee shifts, and 4 days a week, so sometimes I was there a lot.

I’d bring in books to read for when I’d just be sitting and waiting for intermission and the end of the show. P would come sit next to me on the bench in between rehearsals and we’d chat. The books I was reading at the time were Star Wars books and he was a big fan too, so we’d talk a lot about that.

“Chat with you on the bench later,” I’d say.

“Looking forward to it,” he’d reply.

And after a time, we started flirting subtly with each other.


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I Couldn’t Find His You-Know-What! – And neither could my friend!

I promise this story is clean.

So when I was in high school, my good friend A was dating a guy, and she encouraged me to date his brother. The brother was the type to change girlfriends every few weeks, so I knew it wouldn’t be anything serious, but A said it would be good practice and I could have some fun. This guy’s “name” was B. (I swear that’s actually their initials, I’m just not revealing full names).

B and I were doing massages in my basement one weekend, and we started kissing, feeling each other out a bit.

So I tentatively let my hands travel down his chest and into his pants.

I didn’t feel anything right away.

So I moved my hand to one side but found nothing there, so I travelled to the other side, and still nothing. Keep in mind we’re kissing the whole time, and I’m not very experienced, so I figured,

“I’m just not looking in the right places or the right way.”

I thought, “maybe it’s sticking downwards?”

So I went lower but I still couldn’t find anything.

By this time, I’m feeling rather embarrassed, but I’m not giving up that easily.


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The Girl Who Broke My Nose And Stole My Boyfriend

High-School Drama That Felt Like An Episode of the O.C.

Crack! You know the sound effect in movies when someone gets punched in the face? Imagine that sound inside your head. Now imagine you’re in gym class, high school, and you’re about to win the badminton match, all you have to do is flick the birdie to the other side. But your gym partner, and at the time friend, decides to run across from the other end to whack the birdie. Except she doesn’t whack the birdie, she whacks your nose.

I was 16. And she was part of our gang of friends at the time. And I trusted her. I wasn’t very good at gym, but I was decent enough at badminton. . . I think. Anyway, you can imagine there was a lot of red gushing from my nose. Adrenaline kept me hyped and eager to get to the clinic. Others were passing out around me or running off nauseated. I was in pain, massive pain, but I was surviving.

In the end, I got my nose fixed. Looks better now than it did before it got broken, so there’s that.

So there is me, recovering from my broken nose, sensitive bone, and once summer rolls around (three months later), all I want to do is chill and hang out with my friends. We were four close friends, all girls. One of them is my best friend to this day, I consider her family. Another, a close friend, though we seldom see each other. And the last, the girl who broke my nose.


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