petnames

i have nicknamed almost every guy i ever crushed on, hooked up with or dated. only for use when talking with friends. only one of my boyfriends ever gave me a petname. i used my first petname with the guy i dated before J. and i still kick myself for it

D and i dated my freshman year of college. he was my rebound; it only lasted two months. it was a fun two months, but i knew it was nearing its end the day he said he thought he might be falling in love with me. i panicked. he was a super sweet guy who i probably could've fallen for. but i wasn't over my ex and knew i'd only end up hurting D. so i broke up with him. in the parking lot of my dorm building. i'm a bitch... we sorta rekindled our friendship/relationship months later. that also turned out poorly, and i wound up writing a passive aggressive post about him on my old livejournal. i'm still a bitch. i actually favorited the post response he wrote about me because he called me an "ice queen of a bitch". it was kinda true... i used to miss him because he was a great person. then i missed him because i never apologized for being so horrible to him. i still remember some of the silly things he used to say when we were together/still talking. one of those things is his silly petname for me: kitten. short for sex kitten. because i was apparently that sexy

i met P at the beginning of 2009, and we dated for nine months. at some point, i started calling him honeybear. everything about our relationship was big and fast. i kept saying it could explode at any moment, only partially believing it. too bad i was right. that much intensity can't last. i thought i loved him, but love doesn't make you doubt yourself every moment of every day. a text and two phone calls later, we were broken up, and i was sobbing in the parking lot of my office building. classy. bear was so fitting for him. he mauled anything in his path that threatened him. i used to tell him "i don't want to talk to you when you're being a grizzly bear" because bear was the key. i should've known better, but i'd lost myself. and i ruined a great petname in the process

J has a petname. i'm rather fond of it, but sometimes i think honeybear would be more fitting. not because he's a raging asshole like P, but because he's big and snuggly like a pooh bear. however, i refuse to recycle petnames because of the memories (good and bad) associated with it. J doesn't have a petname for me, but a tiny piece of me thinks he would probably use kitten. partially for the sex kitten reference. partially because i'm so cat like sometimes (and he's a closet cat lady ;)). i'm always nuzzling up to him, marking him as mine. but i think it'd make me uncomfortable to hear it from him, reminding me too much of D. i don't particularly mind not having a petname as i still love my own name; i just find it interesting

do you have a petname for your significant other? have you recycled a name?

ghosts

i thought i saw one yesterday... the ghost of my ex *dies*
i've had this small fear of running in to him since N and i moved back in march. the ex's mom lives about 15min away from where we are now. it's totally possible that he could be in our neck of the woods on a regular basis (he's a huge mama's boy). every so often, when i see a car similar to his, my heart stops. i also hope a smidge that his car will careen into a ditch and burst into flames. or at least not be heading the same way i am... it's not so much the running in to him as the reaction to running in to him that i fear. what would i say? how would i act? would i even acknowledge him? would i want him to acknowledge me? would it bring back all the (good and bad) emotions of last year? it makes my brain hurt

i also secretly hope, in the event our paths intersect again, that J is with me when it happens. i'm a bitch, and i would totally flaunt my happiness in his face. he left me so it's my right to show off how much better i am now. i know he was seeing someone a little while ago (thanks, facebook), but that doesn't really matter. i doubt, in the last 14 months, that he's changed or grown as a person. and knowing him, it won't last unless she has the backbone of an ameoba. i know i haven't grown immensely, but i have recovered a lot in that time frame. the relationship kicked my core in the teeth. however, pulling those pieces back together wasn't as hard as the first time i had my heart broken. maybe it was because i had some practice. maybe it was because i have amazing friends. maybe it was because i didn't let myself dwell on it. whatever it was, it allowed me to remember who i am, refind my center and move forward

then one year ago, tomorrow, i randomly messaged someone who's made me laugh, orgasm and swoon ever since :)

first time

[i posted this on an old journal over a year ago. at the time it was extremely difficult putting the experience into words. i've moved beyond this, but it still lives in my heart]

It's been hard thinking about this entry, but I feel obligated to deal with it now. Perhaps after I write this I can truly start to move forward... My first time has secretly been the happiest moment in my entire life. There was no Hollywood-esque glamour; no candle light or Barry White. He simply asked if I wanted to and I said sure. What I remember...

My boyfriend at the time came to pick me up for Thanksgiving break. My roommate had left in the afternoon, but I wasn't leaving until the following morning (ah the 9am kick out). I think we went out for dinner and then headed back so I could pack. I popped in a Disney movie to give me an excuse to ignore my empty bags. Probably mid-movie, we were lying in bed when he asked. I'd been wanting to for months, but it wasn't quite possible with him 3 hours away. The only thing that really concerned me was this would be the first time we'd be completely naked with each other. The whole experience would be a new level of intimacy and naturally I was self-conscious of my body... I remember it wasn't as painful as I'd expected, just this weird pulling (almost burning) sensation. He went slow and kept checking that I was ok. At one point, I thought about stopping, but I thought about the end and decided it would be worth a little discomfort. When we finished, I actually checked the sheets for blood. I was convinced there would be a ton (don't ask me why) but there was absolutely nothing. A few months prior, he'd actually torn my hymen while doing other stuff, but I didn't realize he'd completely broken it. No hymen, no blood, no freaking out about my favorite white sheets.

A little bit later, he asked if I was ok (yep) and then asked if I wanted to do it again (yep). Unfortunately for him, he'd only had one condom. So I sent my poor boy out into the snowy Huntingdon streets to get condoms from Big Sheetz. After 40 minutes I freaked out that he'd driven in to the side of someone's house and called. Apparently, not only did he get lost going to the Sheetz, but he'd driven the wrong way on a one way street coming back. He got back with a mini pack and we joked about me trying to explain to his mom what happened had he not returned safely. We didn't immediately go for it again, but we eventually did it twice more and still had enough energy to watch Beauty and the Beast. By the third time, there wasn't a weird burning feeling and my orgrasm was more intense. I'm sure anyone left on the floor heard me...

The next morning is what makes this... I finished packing (finally) at 2 or 3 am and we somehow managed to both sleep in my dorm bed semicomfortably. I woke up first and took a moment to think about the silly snoring boy next to me. Looking at him, at that exact moment, I absolutely knew I loved him and I would never love him more than I did then. In the very next heartbeat, I knew it was over. Something had changed and we would never work out. But I tucked those feelings away and got ready to leave campus.

Two weeks later, he ended it.

I'm not upset about the way things played out. The end would've happened at some point no matter what I did to stop it. I was lucky enough to have one final special moment before it did. I don't regret a single thing about that night... well maybe sending him out into the snow in the middle of the night... I'm glad my first happened when it happened with someone I cared about and who cared about me. Part of my feelings about it are rooted in my views on sex/sexuality. I make a conscious effort to avoid the cliches of sex because I don't believe in many them. If a person chooses to have intercourse, to me that's all it is. I don't think you're any more or less of a person, and I don't think you're losing a piece of yourself in the act. My virginity was not something I cherished; I didn't hold it close to me or flaunt it around. Yea it was mine, but there was no war or invasion to claim it from me. It was simply something I no longer needed to have in my possession, and I wanted to take the next step in my relationship.

My choice to leave the "V-club" was not hard to make; I know and respect that it's not easy for everyone. My only warning to those who haven't made it, the decision is twofold and both pieces are equally important. The decision to have sex is a huge hurdle to leap, but once you've decided you can make the jump, you have to think about who you can jump. In my opinion, the first time will make or break your sex life. But I also believe that when you embrace your sexual self (and aren't just trying to prove a point), the universe (or higher being of your choice) will hook you up with what you need.

M