'humiliation, so sweet' -or- 'this post should make up for all the terrible things I ever did, thought, or said'

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So I moved to McMinnville, where I had all the friends and family that I needed. Things went real well for me there. I had my fake I.D. I was a party animal, spending all my tips at the bar after work. It was fun being the new girl in town. I had many options as far as the opposite sex went. I met my bestest girlfriend, Rama, and we shared a house together. It was the fun time in my life when I look back from where I am now. Sometimes I pine for the freedom I had then. When you are single, sooner or later you get lonely and start to hate it, but five years later, it seems like such a dream come true. I fell deeply in love for the first time around then. I met Him. He lived in a van. By choice, now, people. He was simple like that. A saving type. Didn’t believe in rent. He was everybody’s friend. Everyone loved Him. He played blues guitar. He traveled a lot. He would just pick up and drive to New Orleans. He was a free spirit. We only really dated for about a month. I wanted him so bad. He said that I had perfect breasts. He didn’t love me back, though. He was the kind of person who never talked badly of people. He avoided confrontation. I don’t even remember what he said, but I do remember my pitiful begging and pleading. I begged him to have sex with me outside of his dad’s house in my car one night. (This memory is stored in the ‘humiliation’ section of my memory library). I think he thought I wanted to snag him with a baby, which I didn’t (I was birth controlled) but he would only put it in the holiest of holes. Yup. I was so love sick that I didn’t care. I just wanted to be close to him. That was the one and only time that happened. Never again. Humiliation. At least the humiliation was self imposed. He didn’t talk shit. He is still my good friend to this very day, though it took me a year to get over it. He never made me feel foolish or like a stupid girl (the way I made myself feel) and he always treated my feelings with respect. He stuck it out because he really wanted to be my friend. He wasn’t just saying that. He was right in the long run anyhow, I realized later. What I wanted is what Michael gave me- a baby and a home and a family. He didn’t want those things. We would have ended up unhappy. He runs his dad’s tow yard now, and he still lives in a van.

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