If you want to be a writer

Then, remember two things.

  1. Don’t belittle yourself.  If you are a writer, call yourself a writer.  Don’t say you want to write, or aspire to, or try to.  Don’t say you are a rising writer, they way you are a rising 1st grader for the entire summer after finishing kindergarten.  If you are a writer, call yourself that.
  2. Remember that you are nothing but a loser, if you say you are something and then never do it.

Virginity

I lost my virginity when I was 20.  It was a disappointing experience, but I was glad to get it out of the way.  He was experienced and I was trying to pretend that I wasn’t a virgin. After that I kind of shut him out, and he wrote me a note saying he didn’t understand that. He slept around, and I knew that and so I didn’t think that he expected anything more.  I took the position that it was a mistake because actually it was kind of embarrassing how awkward I was, and I was still  trying to play off why with some excuse other than my virginity.  Like that we just weren’t meant to be lovers.  He said he didn’t understand what he had done wrong, and then I went over and hung out with him a bit, and it was friendly but that was basically that.

He actually came to my engagement party years later with his girlfriend/wife, I don’t remember.  I believe that was who he married, but I don’t know if he was married to her yet.  That was the last time I saw him.  He wanted to come, and I told my girlfriend, who was organizing it, “what if he says something?”  and she said, “he would never do that.” “He’s matured a lot,” she said, so I said ok.  He was a friend, after all, he was always a friend.  But in retrospect, I would like to know why he wanted to be there.  Was it to meet the kind of guy I would pick to be with forever?  What did he want to know about me that he would want to come to my engagement party?  Was it some kind of closure or just curiosity?

I am still not comfortable naked.  I wish I had had my own place for long enough that I could have just done my chores without any clothes on.  I’ve always been modest, ashamed even.  If I had worked to become more comfortable with myself, I think I would relax more in sexual situations even still.  I enjoy sex; I’m better at it for sure.  I get passionate, but I still fall short on the sensual aspect of it.  It’s almost like the mood has to overcome me to the extent that I am out of control, otherwise I allow my insecurities to interfere.

I had heard that he desired me through friends and I liked him too.  We were hanging out in my room, not the first time, I don’t think, but the other times were innocent enough. We were playing this game in which he traced words on my back that I would try to read by feeling. I’ve never actually been good at that, but this time, maybe he wrote the same things enough times for me to get it.  He wrote “I want you,” and I nodded yes.

I’m pretty sure he was disappointed too.  If I had told him I was a virgin it would have been easier, but I wasn’t comfortable talking at all. He asked me if I was a virgin! Because I guess it was obvious, and I lied.

“No,” I said, “but it’s been awhile.”

I was 20, which at the time seemed old for losing my virginity, and I was pissed off, particularly, that I had not had sex until after my teen years.  That was a significant marker. So I said, “it’s been awhile,” like I had done it before but it was so long ago I forgot how. Should I assume he knew I was lying?  And furthermore that he was confused about why I would?  Or maybe he believed me!

I thought he would talk about it with his friends.  I expected it going in.  Believe it or not, that didn’t bother me, except when I thought he might tell them I was a virgin.  That’s why I continued to lie.  I didn’t trust him not to tell his friends, and I was that embarrassed about it.  Blows the mind, doesn’t it?

In the morning he climbed out the window.  I think it was because he had had a relationship with someone in my dorm, and didn’t want to run into her coming out of my room.  I thought it was funny at the time. I still think it’s funny.

Loser!

I’m a loser but that’s not to say that I’ll always be one. The purpose of saying it is, at least in part, to move towards growth. So, I need to say it. Don’t argue with me. Not that saying it will necessarily change anything. At my age, change isn’t generally expected by anyone, and I would have to surprise people to be something different than what I’ve always been. And to do that, I would have to write more, and the reason I am a loser is because I don’t write. Plain and simple. It’s not complicated. That pretty much sums it up. And yet, I do almost anything instead of writing. I watch TV, that’s mostly how I waste my time. If I read more that would be a fair alternative, but I watch bad TV instead, not even good TV, unless I get lucky (you don’t know if its good until you watch it). I also eat. I also take baths (well, not more than one on any given day). And I get stoned. I always hope the last one will help me to write but does it? If I weren’t already lazy it might. Sometimes it does.

My problem seems to be that  I have no fortitude to make myself do things that take effort. And that’s why I have so much potential and a good personality. I’m actually a pretty good catch. I put other people first. I’m actually not lazy when it comes to doing for others. Write that on my tombstone.

I’ll give myself credit for things. I’m a good mom and I’m proud of that. It’s important to me, and I’ll be remembered for it. I hold down a job. Most would call that a success, and they’d be right. Truthfully I could be a better wife. Maybe I should love him more.