Chapter Three - Rene

Rene was Emmitt's best friend. It was Rene's house where I first met Emmitt in the first place. I don't remember how we ended up getting together, but we did. I guess that's when they quit being friends, I suppose. We really had very little in common. I was pretty heavy into the local music scene, but he was into the club scene.

There was nothing about Rene, looking back, that was good for me. Oh, who am I kidding...I knew that then. He was a drug dealer and owned his own house at only 18. He had two GT Mustangs. He wasn't very careful about keeping his profile low-key. Maybe that was part of the attraction.

I had just started attending a private school that was extremely lenient on rules. It was a work-at-your-own-pace kind of structure (if you could call it structure), and we were required to attend classes for a certain number of hours a week, taken as we saw fit. It allowed for two hour lunches if that's what we wanted. I did that a bit too often with Rene.

What I remember most were the days he'd pick me up from school and we'd spend that time in his car, 98% of the time in the backseat. I usually had to stay at school almost all of Monday just so I could make sure I had enough spare hours to waste having tawdry sex with a loser for a couple of hours each day for the rest of the week.

The bulk of everything I remember about Rene revolves around the different parking locations over that period of time. Sometimes we'd just pull around behind the school (which was actually housed in a church), sometimes we'd go to the city park by the creek (which was across the street from an elementary school), or do other crazy things like go park in the middle of the grocery store parking lot, just to see if anyone would notice.

Please remember, I wasn't always sober; I still had a bit of a drug habit myself, and often did things that make me shudder to think about now. Once, he came to pick me up and one of his friends (i hated the guy), was in the passenger's seat, reeking of alcohol. Passed out cold. Rene and I still had sex in the backseat. I can't imagine the guy stayed passed out the whole time - I still suspect that he was just fine but Rene was trying to prove a point about how much of a freak I was - and that he was watching instead. Given Rene's affinity for exhibitionism, it wouldn't surprise me too much. Given that I typically didn't give a shit, the fact that I did it doesn't surprise me much, either.

On the weekends, I'd usually spend the nights with him. Sex was all we did. There was usually pizza and beer involved, though. Sometimes, if we were feeling particularly skanky, we'd get a 4-pack of Everclear Purple Passion.

One of the most embarrassing and freaky things that ever happened involved his pit bull, Sandy. She was a sweet dog, but she would crawl under the covers after we were asleep. Rene had an oral fixation with me and would often wake up in the middle of the night and go down on me. Do you see where this is going? Yeah. One morning, I thought it was him, but it wasn't. I figured it out pretty quickly, and I made him establish a "no dogs in the bedroom" rule from there on out.

It wasn't the quality - that's for sure - but the quantity. Bobby's emotional involvement in our relationship had fooled me into thinking that most people who slept together cared for each other. I guess I made the mistake in thinking that because Rene spent so much time and money on me that he must've actually cared about me. I think that was probably where my ridiculous idea of sex = affection began.

Eventually, he met some rich girl with a Daddy complex who was rebelling against her family hard enough to proclaim her love for Rene. He couldn't help himself; she'd been Homecoming Queen at the local high school and she had great grades and a bright future. I told him I understood (I did), and that I was okay with it (which I really was, mostly).

We still got together for a weekend marathon every once in a great while, as our lives continued on and we moved on. He moved out of town but came into town every so often. He gave his grandmother his house, which I thought was kinda nice.

There's an interesting story about how I got him to help me buy a gun when I was 17, but that might be an entry for another time. It's a fun story to tell, though.

Where is he now? I have no clue. I haven't spoken to him in probably 15 years. I'm not sure how long he was in the drug game and I haven't done anything to try to find him. No need.

Next up: Chris D.
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Chapter Two: Bobby B

My love affair with Bobby had existed pretty much since I began high school. He was the second person I was introduced to at the school and so then it began. We started seeing each other. I was still a virgin and he said he liked it, but he wasn't going to be the first one. "My father always used to say, a girl always falls in love with her first and they'll never get over it, and I believe that. I don't believe in love, though, so I can't be your first," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone else, and I can wait, but if you get the opportunity, take it. I'd love to be able to finally be with you." He was a junior, I was a freshman, and as much as I wanted him to change his mind, he wouldn't. The whole thing was kinda weird, but whatever. It wasn't like I had any better options.

I won't get into the whole thing about how much he taught me - in several arenas - but I learned more about what men like and more about drugs than I ever thought I would.

(by the way, you should always be wary of a teenager that's been given the master bedroom. i've known three of them, and they were always super-fucked up)

We dated for close to the whole school year and then we had that conversation. You know...the one that makes the sky feel as if it's falling into your stomach. He told me that he was interested in another girl and was ready to start having sex again and he didn't want to lie to me. So we broke up. And soon after that was when Emmitt came along. I still saw Bobby at school and we still hung out. We kinda started seeing each other when things with Emily didn't work out so well and they ended it only a month after they got together.

A few weeks into Emmitt, he went away on vacation with his parents for a week. And the day he left, I called Bobby. I didn't even have to tell him why I was calling; he already knew.

I remember the pink hue cast all over his bedroom from the red scarf he'd draped over the lamp. We were tired, worn out, and sweaty. His drapes swished in the breeze of the fan. The smell of incense filled the room as we smoked the cliche after-sex cigarettes. Kate Bush's angelic voice filled our ears, Bobby's hand swirling around on my back to the beat of the music. I felt so secure and so loved, wrapped up in the satin sheets, feather down comforter, and his arms. I stayed late into the night, succumbing to desire time and time again, Bobby attentive to every need and whim I had. I could feel him on my skin and smell him in my hair and when the CD changed and he mumbled softly the lyrics to "Just Like Heaven," I distinctly remember thinking, Yes. JUST like it.

That experience, that feeling...that's what I thought it was all supposed to be about. I knew he wasn't in love with me and I was okay with that. I was getting the best part of him and, much like women feel as if sex is the most precious thing to share with someone, I felt that same thing about what he was giving me: the most precious thing to share with me.

And it wasn't just about sex with us. It wasn't about a relationship, either. He got back with Emily while we were still doing our thing. And, yes, Emmitt came back but I didn't stop seeing Bobby. I did love him, just in a different way. Emmitt...there were no feelings there whatsoever, but he did things for me, so I kept it up. Eventually, Bobby decided to stop seeing me and committed himself to Emily. I was disappointed, but I understood.

But I will never forget the feeling of the carpet burns on my back, rolling around on the floor, drinking screwdrivers made with vodka given to us by his mother, jamming out to Jimi Hendrix before doing it all over again. There are so many things about that time that I don't remember, as well. That's not entirely all his fault, though.

Where is he now?

He ended up marrying Emily when she got pregnant after high school. They moved to Austin. One night when I went to the tattoo shop for some work, he showed up for a piercing. We talked for a very short while and he left. I kinda felt punched in the stomach. Then I heard nothing until about a year ago. He found me on Facebook. He'd divorced Emily - amicable breakup, they just shouldn't have gotten married - and is dating a much younger girl. They seem happy, despite some of the rockiness we talked about and, last I heard, he'd proposed to her. He's working as a mechanic in a dealership and his son is a really, really smart kid and has a killer personality - just like his parents. We spent hours talking and texting, reminiscing about all the good times and fun, and he helped fill in a ton of the blanks from my teenage years I don't remember. He's invited me to come up and spend some time with them, but I'm not really into that idea. We still talk even now, but he hasn't made it down to my part of the state yet. He hates it here - I don't blame him - but when he comes, he promised we'll get together. When we do get together, I'm sure it will be a very interesting evening.

Next up: Chapter 3: Rene, Emmitt's best friend.

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Chapter One - Emmitt

I was the last of all my friends to be a virgin. I didn't consider 14 to be a normal age to start having sex, so I was confused about why all my friends were doing it. But you probably remember your mind as a teenager; racing, obsessive, thinking no further into the future than to the weekend. At that stage in my life, 3 months seemed like an eternity. Listening to my friends talk about their exploits over an entire school year made me feel as if I'd never find someone.

The main issue was that my friends were actually in relationships; they weren't just sleeping around. I, on the other hand, couldn't keep anyone around longer than 2 or 3 months and I was miserable and finally came to terms with the fact that waiting for "the right guy" was a fairy tale accessible to only a few. So I decided that I'd just go ahead and get it over with, with the next guy that didn't repulse me and tried to get in my pants.

As luck would have it, there was a party that weekend. I ended up getting chummy with a guy named Emmitt who was not even remotely my type. Ralph Lauren and Cole Haan and all buttoned up. Came from a rich neighborhood, went to great schools and, basically, came across as a spoiled little rich boy. Although I spent the night at the party with him, I didn't drink or use drugs (ha! at the time!), and everybody was pretty hammered. He took me up on the roof of the host's house and we talked for quite some time. I found out about his checkered past and his getting sent to boot camp and reform school and how he totally changed his life around. He swore he didn't use any drugs at all anymore, but I suspected that he smoked weed quite a bit. After all, we were at the house of a drug dealer. An 18-year old drug dealer who owned his own house and two new Mustangs. 5.0 Mustangs, too...not those stupid little 4-bangers. We fooled around a little but, mostly, I just wanted to sleep.

He borrowed his friend's Mustang to take me home the next morning. My parents were at work and I thought, You know, Stillie...maybe this is the way to go. So I invited him in. We fooled around a little bit more and then told him to go for it. I'd never told him I was a virgin, either. Like a moron, condom-less and impulsive, we had sex. Short, pathetic, "i'm not sure he's in yet because he's that small" sex. Like most girls, I was underwhelmed. Totally unimpressed. I mean, sure, I liked the feeling but it was just easier to take care of myself and actually revel in the sensations.

He wouldn't leave. I literally had to kick him out. I told him I didn't want to see him anymore. I mean, we had nothing in common besides acquaintances and I'd gotten what I needed. He showed up at my house every evening, begging my father to let him see me. Dad didn't understand why I wouldn't want to go out with such a "nice looking boy with a nice car" who "obviously comes from money."

Eventually he wore me down and we started dating. He went out of town for a week over the summer and I started having sex with another guy I'd been crushing on for 2 years. But that's Chapter Two. Emmitt and I had been going out for about three months when he went to eat Christmas dinner with my family. I overheard my oldest cousin say, "Well, she finally brought a guy over...she must not be a virgin anymore." Gah. It was about a month later when I took my best girlfriend over to his house one afternoon. He started mildly flirting with her and I broke up with him right there. Then I started fucking his best friend. But that's another story. Chapter Three, to be exact.

Where Is He Now?
Apparently, while we were dating, he'd been sleeping with another girl. He got her pregnant and her grandfather forced Emmitt to move in with them. I heard they got married later. I never had any desire to find him at all until I was doing some background checks and had to look up public records of someone with the same last name. Seems that the old ex got busted with pounds upon pounds of marijuana with the intent to distribute and, at last check, is currently in a local prison.

Next up: Chapter Two - Bobby B

(by the way...i don't plan on writing so much for all of these guys. i just figured, you know...the first and all. good background for you to get a feel for my self-destructive pattern.)