What It's Come To

My first serious boyfriend, Nate, was an abusive asshole, but he isn’t the one who ruined me for anyone else who wanted to ever think of me as a nice, normal girl, and not a disgusting slut. I still remember his first words to me. I was fourteen and in ninth grade, all cute and cuddly and completely naïve and innocent. I was hanging out with this girl who had a crush on him, so of course he took that as incentive to tell me I had nice tits. You could maybe say “Nice bug bites” at the time, so obviously I was flattered, and couldn’t help blushing myself to near-fainting. We proceeded to go to the “Smoker’s woods,” where I watched him and his friends, in awe, as they took one drag of a cigarette after another. I couldn’t help it, I was in love, even though my friend was completely smitten with him.

Nate had a girlfriend at the time, Elizabeth. She was unattractive, fat, and had a nose that my mother thought looked like some old weird movie star’s. But there was something about him that I couldn’t stop myself from being attracted to. He was rebellious, was being constantly suspended for breaking the rules, doing pills, and being an asshole to the school in general. What wasn’t there to like. I still remember his dark brown eyes and shit-colored brown hair that fell across his eyes. So, so sexy. NOT.

I don’t really remember how this happened, but somehow, he came over to my house one day. My friend, of course, didn’t know. I was thrilled. He was the first boy to ever have entered my room, sit on my twin size bed, and stare at my nothing-tits. I couldn’t have been more pleased. I remember trying to kiss him because he was nuzzling my nose with his and he pushed me away. I was mortified. He, of course, went and told my friend and shit hit the fan.
After that, things became more concealed. I told him I couldn’t see him because my friend would be mad. He proceeded to call me for hours on end nonstop until I agreed to see him, at his house. This time was different. He took me to the park by his house and kissed me for the first time. I can picture the snowflakes falling across my eyelashes and his lips brushed against mine. I used to be so tiny I could stand on the ice covering the snow without falling through. That was the only way I could reach his lips without having to jump up and down. That was also the day I saw my first bit of male anatomy. I was so scared I closed my eyes and told him to put it away.

We had an affair to remember – for too months. There was no sex. I was a virgin. I wanted to save that for someone special, as I told him. That was the only thing I had to hold over his head. He loved Elizabeth, and wasn’t leaving her anytime soon. Things for me got worse. I wanted to stay friends with my friend, but all she ever talked about was how much she liked Nate, how he promised her he was going to be with her soon, and all that lovely shit that guys tell a girl they’ll never really be with.

Finally, sometime in February, Elizabeth broke up with him. I was thrilled. Maybe he’d be mine now! Things weren’t going fast enough for me though. Nate was busy mourning over the loss of his whale, and my friend was growing anxious to be with him. Apparently he’d gone to her house and they’d made out for three hours straight. I was devastated.
Then one day, he popped the question. It was a miracle to me. We were laying in his bed and he was fingering me and he just casually asked me if I’d be his girlfriend. I’d only dated one guy in eighth grade, and I think it had been on a dare. This was all new to me. I didn’t once think about what my friend would say.

The news reached her the following day. I remember hearing her howling sobs through the school building and shuddering at the idea that she was going to unleash her wrath on me. Our friendship was over. Obviously.

We dated for a few months, maybe three, before I lost my virginity to him on a warm, balmy, May 10th. I mowed the lawn while he napped, came in all gross and sweaty, and then we had sex on the floor of my bedroom while listening to the song “Moment” by Aiden. I thought it was so romantic. In hindsight, I didn’t know that the song was about the singer’s addiction to heroin. So much for romanticism.

After about six months of dating, things got weird. No, everything was fine. We’d go to school, come home, have sex, and take a nap – nothing out of the ordinary for two lazy teenagers. I was fifteen, by the way. We were bored, so Nate decided to play a game. He took out his pocket knife and slowly stroked the blade across my porcelain torso. I bit my lip. This could be sexy, from an emo point of view. Did I mention I was into the dark makeup and skinny jeans and band t-shirts, hardcore? But then he decided to put more pressure on my skin. I bit my lip, tears coming to my eyes. It really fucking hurt! Soon, blood was running everywhere; across my stomach, down my thighs, around my hips. I was a bloody mess.

This became a constant thing. I dealt with it for almost two years. I don’t know why I did. He met a girl named Alissa in his science class. She seemed nice enough. She wasn’t. After breaking up with him, he immediately moved onto her. I found out years later he’d been cheating on me with her for quite a while. She’s a dumb bitch, but that’s rude to say because she actually had a learning disability – oh, and she had seizures. Maybe he found it kinky to see her writing around on the floor.

I was more upset than I’d ever been. I’d lost control of my first addiction. I pleaded with him to take me back, but he ignored me. I told him I’d kill myself if he didn’t come back, and he just shrugged it off. I told my mom I couldn’t live another day and soon, I was sent to Four Winds in Saratoga. I stayed there about two weeks, where they diagnosed me with depression, and drugged me up with Serequel, an anti depressant that is dangerous for anyone under the age of eighteen. They let me go, and I was fine – for a little while at least.