Have you hooked up with the guy you lost your virginity to after he dumped you? Could you blog more about why we/you go back and have sex with your past ex's? What is the attraction?
I'm not sure this story actually answers that question, because honestly I don't know why we go back. In my case it's usually because they were good in bed, but have a read and decide for yourself.
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‘I’m sorry.’
‘What? Why?’
‘For … everything.’ The Boy said sheepishly.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I treated you really badly. I don’t know why I did that.’
The Boy had come to visit me at uni a couple months back. I hadn’t seen him in ages. When we dated he had been attractive and had a swimmer’s build, but now that he was a bit older he had filled out and looked as if he could be a model. He has a very unique look to him and I had been instantly attracted to his fascinating physiology. He wasn’t good looking enough to get away with what he did to me way back when, though.
I realised I was frowning a bit as I wondered where all of this was coming from. He took a sip of his ale. He always drank bitters when we went to the pub. I tried to soften my face a bit. He continued, ‘What I did was terrible. I’m sorry.’
‘Say exactly what you’re sorry for.’
I hadn’t spoken since he started this spontaneous apology. He looked up at me, a bit surprised by the sound of my voice. ‘I’m … sorry for …’ he spoke slowly, trying to read my expression, ‘… sleeping with you and then dumping you.’
‘Not just sleeping with me,’ I said.
‘For taking your virginity and then dumping you.’
It was like a scene out of a cheesy American programme where the teenagers are sitting next to a pond being all serious about life. I looked at the river and watched a rowing boat pass. I looked back at him and shrugged. ‘It’s alright, that was, like, ages ago. We were both immature. But you were a massive dick, so thank you for the apology.’
He smiled and laughed nervously. ‘I was such a twat. I can’t believe you still talk to me.’
‘Yeah I wonder about that myself sometimes. To be fair though, there was a long period of time when we didn’t speak.’
‘True … Then there was that time we had sex in that boat.’
We laughed. ‘Didn’t you leave your pants in there?’
He was still laughing, ‘Yeah!’
‘What are we like?’
‘Absolutely mental I reckon.’
We started to tell stories about all the good times we had together. I was baffled by how much he remembered and still knew about me. Here was a boy who I was lead to believe didn’t give a second thought about me, telling me the details of what I was wearing the morning of my last exam in first year. Unbelievable.
I suppose everyone has to grow up, and to The Boy’s credit, he has in a way. I think he’s still a bit of a twat and man slag, but if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black then I don’t know what is. Being around him again reminded me why I liked him so much in the first place. He was hilarious and so, so very attractive.
‘When’s your train?’ I asked, finishing my drink.
‘Whenever, I bought an open return.’
‘That was optimistic of you,’ I said raising my eyebrows.
‘Thought I’d take my chances,’ he said, winking at me in a comical and obvious way.
‘Well, what do you want to do? Walk around a bit?’
‘Sure. Then why don’t we make some snakebite – you know, for old times sake.’
I laughed, ‘I haven’t had snake bite since –‘
‘Since hanging out with me? I know.’
‘I thought people stopped drinking snake bite when they were sixteen.’
‘Nah,’ he said as we walked along the river. ‘It’s an Englishman’s drink.’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s a chav’s drink.’
‘Same thing.’ As we walked he kept me laughing the entire time.
As it was getting later I got a text from Foster.
Don’t forget – birthday drinks for Dill at the pub tonight x
‘Oh, shit.’ I said, reading the text.
‘What?’
‘Totally forgot about a friend’s birthday do tonight.’ I turned to him, realising I didn’t want him to leave. ‘Want to come along?’
‘Sure … pre-game with snakebite first?’
‘You’re not going to let that one go are you?’
‘No, probably not.’
‘Fine, let’s go to the shop then we can watch telly at mine.’
We sat on my bed as if it were a sofa, backs against the wall, feet over the edge of the bed, and laptop between us. ‘I can’t be-lieve you’ve never seen the Inbetweeners!’ I shrieked incredulously.
‘Me neither, this is brilliant!’
‘I know!’
We got through half of the first season and a fair bit of snakebite before it was time to head to the pub. As The Boy was putting on his jacket he asked, ‘If we go out I’ll probably miss the last train – is it alright if I stay here?’
A momentary mental flash of what would inevitably happen if he stayed crossed my mind. ‘Sure, no problem.’
‘S-weet.’ He said.
‘Come on, nerd.’
When we got to the pub I introduced The Boy to the Tube Stops, who looked a bit like the cast from the Inbetweeners when standing next to him. We sat on the edge of the table, talking mostly to each other the entire time. Even though it was Dill’s birthday celebration, it wasn’t his actual birthday so I didn’t feel all that bad. I see those guys almost every day, I hadn’t seen The Boy in about a year.
After another hour or so in the pub we all parted ways and The Boy came back to mine. We finished the first season of the Inbetweeners and then talked a bit longer before he interrupted something I was saying to kiss me mid-sentence. We kissed for a fair while, stripping off a layer every few minutes until I was down to my knickers. There was something very comfortable about being with someone you’ve known for so long. We hadn’t had sex in awhile, but when it came down to it I think he’s actually improved. He’s a bit like a good whiskey, just getting better with age.
We passed out with him holding me tight against him. We always slept close when we slept next to each other. As he snored into the back of my head I laughed a bit remembering the time I woke up with his face resting on my cheek as he snored loudly in my face. I fell asleep and woke up in the same position, with him still holding onto me tightly. He must have sensed that I was awake because he groaned a groggy ‘Hellooo.’
I rolled over to face him. ‘Morning.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘You’re always hungry.’
‘I mean, I’m like starving,’ he said, sounding more awake. ‘I want scotch eggs.’
‘For breakfast?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well my diet doesn’t usually consist of breaded eggs and sausage I’m afraid.’
‘I know, that’s why I bought some yesterday. They’re in your mini fridge.’
‘Disgusting.’
‘They’re amazing.’ He tapped my shoulder with his index finger. ‘Go get them for me?’
‘Jog on, you’re not eating those in my bed.’
He groaned. ‘Please …’
‘You can eat them in my bed if you get them yourself and make me a cup of tea.’ He exhaled deeply, sounding exasperated. ‘Please …’ I groaned, mocking him.
He got up and walked across the room. He looked quite good half naked, so I watched as the eye candy made me tea. He turned to me, holding a tiny canister. ‘You’re still using this crap fake sugar?’ I shrugged. ‘It’ll kill you, you know.’
‘I doubt that’s what will kill me actually.’
‘It isn’t good for you.’
‘Right. And scotch eggs are?’
‘Absolutely,’ he said with conviction.
‘Give me one then.’ He walked over and handed me the package of mini scotch eggs. I picked one up and smelled it.
‘It’s not going to bite you.’
I took a bite and thought about it for a second. ‘Not bad.’
‘How have you never eaten scotch eggs before?’
‘They don’t exactly look appetizing, do they?’
‘That’s true.’ He came back over to the bed with our tea and continued to devour the rest of the package of scotch eggs.
We stayed in bed for a couple of hours, just talking and watching tv and having more tea. It was one of my favourite things to do, just lounge around with him. It reminded me of when we first dated. We decided to get up and go for a walk before going to the train station and just talked about nothing and everything. When we got to the station he realised that he had lost the second half of his ticket. He was a nightmare like that. Logistically impossible to deal with. Somehow he still had the receipt so we managed to get him another ticket. We stood near the barriers, waiting for his train. About five minutes before it was due to depart we said our goodbyes.
‘Thanks for letting me stay.’
‘Thanks for the scotch egg.’
He smiled. ‘Yeah, I really got you to break out of your shell there.’
‘You have a way of doing that it seems.’ I stared into his blue eyes and he leaned down to kiss me.
‘Goodbye.’
‘Bye,’ I said, and then I watched him go through the barriers and out to the platform. He turned and gave me a wave before walking down to his train.
As I walked back to college I thought about how different The Boy was. He was always funny and we had always got on well, but I had thought him to be selfish and a bastard until the day before. I suppose he was more like the Scarecrow than the Tinman – he wasn’t heartless, just stupid.
Though I’m hardly the image of age and wisdom, we were much more immature when we were dating, and you can’t live your life hating people for their mistakes. His unsolicited apology was the only thing I ever wanted, and whatever his motives were for saying what he said, it provided a kind of closure I never realised I needed.
Despite what a handsome man The Boy has become, my favourite memories are still from cuddling with him as a gangly boy and spending my Sunday mornings in bed laughing and watching telly.
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