I think that when I was in college my freshman year, I had a girlfriend for a few weeks—maybe even a few months—who lived in a dorm between the dining hall and where I lived. She had dark hair, cut closely around her head, a broad face with pleasant features anda wide mouth sporting full lips.
I’m not sure how we met—probably in a class, or maybe at dinner, if she was a friend of a friend. The first time we kissed, we started sliding our tongues in and out of each other’s mouth’s. It was amazing to me because I’d never done it before, but I’d seen it in movies and read about it in stories and I just let go, falling into the sensuousness of tongues and teeth and saliva. It was far better than I ever could have imagined, and I probably fell in love with her right then and there.
She might have been the first woman I ever thought I loved. I’m sure that I couldn’t get enough of her after that, and so I started stalking her, I guess. What did I know? I was obsessed for the first time. Soon she must have gotten tired of my constant need to be near her, and she started keeping her door closed.
My best friend and I would often go and drink a lot of beer, and then, on the way back to our dorms, pass by my beloved’s dorm, and I would insist on going through and knocking on her door, and my best friend would the warning me against this, but I couldn’t hold back. I needed those lips, and that tongue and those amazing feelings and, of course, more.
I would get more, eventually, but not from her and not for several years. But she just cut me off then. She said she had school work to do, which I didn’t understand because I had school work, too, and I had plenty of time for love. Or what I thought was love.
I guess she did need the time for school work because she transferred somewhere else after the first semester because, I suppose, she couldn’t handle the work. We kept in touch and saw each other occasionally when she came to visit friends. We actually became rather close friends again, and she might have taken my virginity. In fact, we had actually planned it.
“You know,” I said on a phone call, “If I were anyone else, we would have slept together by now.”
“I know,” she said. “Do you want to?”
But our meeting got all fucked up and I got mad and then I totally screwed it up, and not in a good way. Story of my life.