Losing It

When I was in the seventh grade (around age 13), I met a guy and decided I was in love with him. Let's call him Kent. I saw him in the lunchroom, and he had bleach blonde hair like a certain popular rap artist.
I walked right up to him and said, "That's not your real hair color!"
Well, obviously, that just charmed him right over. We began dating a few days later.
I literally have not been without a boyfriend for more than a month in my entire memory.
That being said, Kent was my first REAL boyfriend. Basically the first one I would see outside of school.
We would meet up at the skating rink and kiss behind the lockers (with tongue!).
That went on for about a year, then things started to change.
Kent would break up with me out of the blue for a couple of days, and then come back to me.
There was always a price, though.
Like, the first time, he wanted to see my breasts.
Later, it was me touching his penis through his pants.
Every time, it was more. And every time he broke it off, it hurt more.
During these times, though, I would lose it.
I would yell, scream, cry, and even threaten to kill myself.
At fourteen, that's pretty severe.
Finally, after being broken up for a couple of weeks (the longest time ever), Kent told me that if I could meet him at the movies, he would consider getting back together.
So, I did. I remember so vividly seeing Legolas's face on the screen as Kent's fingers tore through my hymen.
And I mean it when I say TORE. It hurt like hell. He wasn't gentle at all.
I had never even used a tampon before then either, so it was painful.
And it wasn't as if he was trying to please me...it was like he was just feeling around. Exploring.
When we left, he told me that he didn't think getting back together was a good idea.
I went home and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I felt so dirty and used, and it wasn't even worth it.
But of course, a few days later, it was the same story again. So I met him.
This time, we didn't even go in to the movie theater. We walked around back to a small creek that runs behind the complex.
He laid me down and started kissing me before immediately beginning to unbutton his pants.
I told him that I didn't want it to happen like that. I didn't know if I was ready.
He said it was fine, that he just wanted me to suck it.
I had never had a penis in my mouth before.
It was a weird feeling. To feel the soft skin of it in my mouth, and the blood pumping through it.
I had no clue what I was doing, so I just started to suck on it.
Apparently I was doing a good job because he started thrusting in and out of my mouth.
Finally I stopped. I told him that I really didn't feel comfortable doing all of this with someone who couldn't even be my boyfriend.
That was where he stopped me and said, "Sarah Jane, I AM your boyfriend. You just showed me how much you love me. And I love you so much. I just want to show you that."
And somehow, that worked. It really worked.
I kissed him so hard out of joy, and soon he had me laid back on the dirt with the head of his penis at my entrance before I even realized what was going on.
I started to protest, but all he said was, "Sarah Jane, please, don't you love me?"
And I did...or I thought I did. I don't know.
Either way, that's how it happened.
In the dirt behind a movie theater where tickets only cost a dollar, I lost my virginity.
It hurt, I bled, but I took it until he was done.
Afterward, I said, "I love you." and he just nodded and got up to leave while I was still lying there half dressed.
He walked away, and I cried until my parents picked me up, and then all night to sleep.
We didn't break up again after that until we finally broke up for good.
I gave him sex whenever he wanted it, but I never enjoyed it.
I honestly thought sex wasn't made for women to enjoy for the longest time.
Actually, sometimes I still think that.
I don't quite know if that was where I started equating sex with love, or if it was earlier, somewhere deeper and further into my subconscious, but that is the first instance I remember it actually presenting itself.
I still struggle with that battle daily.
Even though I am married now, I feel a rejection for sex like a rejection of me as a person. Or of my love.
I have slept with 13 men in the 6 years I have been sexually active. 5 of these have been in the past year and a half. That may not be a lot to some people, but it is to most people I've met.
I am working on it. But I think remembering how I got to where I am today will help.
That's why I'm taking this journey.

Trying to figure out which stops were important and which weren't on the road to easy.