A common story

The first time I chose to have sex was quite different from my actual loss of virginity. I was excited. It was planned. I was in love.

It's funny to look back on. It was my freshman year of college still, second semester this time. We'd become best friends quickly after meeting in September. He meant so much to me. He was so comforting. He was by my side through every emotion I faced. I found out I was bipolar that fall and he took care of me like it was his job and without complaint. He kissed me one night while we were having a talk because I was freaking out about school, as per usual. He didn't just kiss me; he asked if he could kiss me. Everything seemed perfect.

We waited until a night when my roommate had night class. We went to dinner at the caf. We ate quickly and rushed away. Most people probably had figured out why, and we didn't care at all.

I smile remembering it, despite the heartbreak that ensued later that semester as time went on.

He became very verbally abusive. He was forever saying mean things. I was fat, he would say over and over. I would be sad, and he'd console me with "But Claudia, you are still pretty." Ultimately, he ripped my heart out. He was still in love with his cheating ex-fiance and I was the comforting rebound.

As women, I think we all have these stories. But commonality only does so much to dull the pain.

(Truly, feel free to share your own story and ask questions. Also, remember that the blog is for a cause: any money you lovelies donate will go to the Rape And Incest National Network, and will be used to fund their online hotline for those affected by sexual violence. You can donate by clicking here - if you're so kind as to kick in, make sure to mention in the 'Additional Information' field that myroseyglasses sent you, and that I'm part of the GBBMC2008.)