Butterfly Cry

I was twelve when I had my first "boyfriend". I don't know if you could call him a real boyfriend though. We never went on a date and he never really asked me out. That probably doesn't make sense though so I should probably explain. When my family moved to Montana, we moved to a very small town. The town was so small, it didn't even have it's own zip code, post office, or school. As a result, we were bused to school in an equally small town about four miles away. The way that the seating went was that, the higher your grade, the farther back you sat. Since it was a K-8 school and I was in seventh grade, I was in one of the last four to six rows.

It was on our second day at school that one of the boys asked me if I would date his friend. I thought about it for a moment and for some reason, I said yes. It was probably stupid and impulsive, but it was a choice I made. My mother was upset when I told her that afternoon. My brothers and I were ordered to never date until we had turned sixteen. I should have listened to her and told the others that I couldn't do it the next day. For some stupid reason, i didn't. I think that I just wanted to be loved and cared for. It wasn't like I kissed him or gave myself to him. Actually, I 've never even had a real kiss. It was more that sense of actually belonging to someone who cared enough to notice me. He never really did notice me anyway.

The next time I dated, I was seventeen. A long time had passed and I had changed. In some ways I was more grown up and in others I was still like that twelve year old girl on the school bus. This time, it wasn't a stranger though. It was one of my best friends. A boy I had known for the past year and a half. He was someone I had started to develop a crush on. He was smart, funny, and I could talk to him easily. It was around Valentine's Day. I remember because we were making cards in some of our classes like French. And so I made one.

All of our other friends knew how I felt and threatened me: I tell him or they would. So, I admitted that I had a crush on him. That afternoon, when he dropped me and my brother off at my house, he and I decided that we wanted to give dating a try. We never kissed. We rarely held hands. We went to one dance. Even there, we chose to spend most of the night talking with only a few dances thrown in for some flavor. When I left for college, we great distant. Eventually, it just seemed natural to say that...we weren't together anymore. I suppose I could have been upset, but it never occurred to me that I should be.

I have only ever had one other boyfriend. That was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. It was during my second year of college. I was (and still am) very into on-line rp sites, especially of the proboards variety. There is honestly nothing wrong with them, they are great ways to develop writing and characters. The unfortunate part was when I started talking to one of the guys on messenger. It seemed fine at first. Just a way to chat and plot. But then...it grew intimate to a point where I should not have allowed it.

I do not consider myself promiscuous in any way or even vulgar, but I allowed myself to be as such with this person. A mistake I shall forever regret and have to remember to learn from. We began dating on-line and I allowed myself too deep. I wanted someone to care for me again. I should probably be thankful I suppose that we never met in real life. I don't know what have happened if we had and I fear that answer now.

When we broke up, it wasn't bad. I was upset (he did the breaking up), but we still talked. I understood why we had to break up after all, so I hung on close hoping that maybe fate would be kind. Fate was kind, just not in the way that I had expected it. There was another person involved during this whole time, another that I had begun to trust and role play and plot with. I thought both of them would always be good enough to always remain honest with me.

In the end, I heard two very conflicting stories. One saying that he had cheated on me, another denying it. That wasn't what tipped the scales in the end. The end came with a phone call and a conversation that tore me apart. I have never considered myself dishonest. I would never want to be. I do not like the stigma and pain that lies bring. Yet, on that day and with those words, I was reduced to nothing. He told me: I thought that you were sweet and innocent but I was wrong. He accused me of being lying and manipulative among many other false charges.

In the end, I angered him even more when I told him we needed to break of all personal ties for the sake of my sanity and mental health. Sometimes I wonder if he has ever forgiven me. And sometimes, I'm smart enough to forget.