My First (Sorta) Girlfriend

So, what I keep hoping for is that this place becomes funnier than it is morose. Life is hard enough, ya don’t need to have a stranger whine on about themselves. That can be fun in doses, but for me, I guess I’d rather this place be about getting a laugh or a smile out of people. So we’re gonna aim for that with this one. Because with this one, we’re talking about the big ole S itself.

That’s right baby.

We’re talking about sex.

Well, kinda…

What I wanted to talk about was my first (definitely first) girlfriend and how that all went. *spoiler warning* There is no actual sexy sex (unless soiling me undergarments as I sleep counts) in this story *end spoiler*, cause well, I’m a square. I mean, just look at me.

That quiver you just felt between your legs? That’s fear.

I can look better than that, I swear! But that should give you an idea of what I’m working with here. So we’ll cast our minds back. Way, way back…


The Year is 2005

I am 17.

And I am feeling sexy…

Basically, this… But add long hair and take 2 or 3 stone away! But yes, this is genuinely the best attempt I can make at being “sexy”

So yeah, if ya haven’t sussed it, not exactly a hit with the laydees. In fact, at this point in my life, I’ve never held hands with a girl I’m attracted to, nevermind about the schmoozing. But if a summary of my lack of sexual escapades is what you’re looking for, here is a super brief run-down on my love life, thus far.

  • Have a crush around 12 or 13ish. Nothing happens, never tell.
  • Have a crush at the age of 14 or so. Nothing happens, never tell.
  • 16 or so, have a crush, DO TELL (yonks later) and we kind of agree to date but it’s all texting and very cringe and SHEGOTBACKWITHADAMWHENSHESWORESHEWOULDNT and I’m totally fine and over that.

During this time, I’m skinny with long, curated hair. I say curated because it was thick and moppy but my mother brought me to a hair salon where they proceeded to layer it! I’m a boy, yet to become a man, and by getting my pretty haircut, I practically screamed it from the rooftops! Wish I had that hair now though. You bet your ass I’d wear that shit with confidence!

Sorry, I head on tangents often. I tend to do that, so better to announce it than try fight it or else this just becomes a schtick where mid-post, I’m apologising for something I always do and HOLY SHIT, I’m at it again. We got tangents within tangents, how bout dat? Please stick around!

So it being my late teens, it’s certainly the age where most people are dating or trying to get in on the action. I dunno what the vernacular is when/where-ever you are, but at the time, the slang for kissing (with sexy, coiling tongues of course) was “shifting”. Rotten word ain’t it? Considering the context, it’s fucking gross. Generally speaking, you “shift” to get something awkward out of the way or because you’re sitting uncomfortably, right? It makes the idea of smoochy smoo being this cumbersome, confusing act and so, making with the kissy kissy became super uncom-hold up, they totally nailed it! I guess its true what they say about Irish and their gift for making poetry outta language. Fuck, I really hope this place doesn’t prove to make me the exception to that rule…

I was certainly lonely in a romantic sense, but I was playing the long game here. I was getting super into comics, anime, writing and a plethora of other things that girls my age found irresistible. My friends would meet at the weekends in town in this whole mixed group, of which I would generally bail or go hang with mates who were not in said crowd. So really, I wasn’t doing myself any favours here. Same-sex school and I ain’t exactly putting myself out there to talk to girls back home. I just didn’t want to be in a large social circle so if one gaggle of friends was off mingling, I’d retreat to a smaller, more intimate social group. And it wasn’t to do with anything like being anxious around the fairer sex, I never had an issue there. It was just I would make people laugh and they would quote me back to others. And that felt very strange to hear someone say what you said, in front of you, to someone else. These days I would frigging love that, but back then it just made me uncomfortable. To think my audience had already found me, only for me to reject them…

Please, you can quote me all you like now. I’ll even let you sing my praises!

The Girl

That is a fair amount of prelude, but maybe that will help paint a picture of the kind of raw, magnetic, sexual charisma I had at the time. So let’s get down to the roughly 8 months or so that I first have a (sorta) genuine girlfriend. It felt like an honest thing at the time, so we’ll call it that, though I must advise things get… Well, you’ll see.

So I meet this girl through one of my best friends. I stayed at his place and the family went to visit relatives roughly an hours drive (this bit is important, it’s a writer’s trick called foreshadowing) from where I’m living. Dunno why it was I chose to tag along, possibly my parents were away or the more likely thing is I just had nothing better to do, so off we went. At this house, I meet his cousin and right away, I’m smitten.

Slight tangent here folks. This is still a time before Iron Man and the MCU, before a game of thrones, fuck it, even before The Dark Knight!… So “nerd” is still a word getting usage. I am very much so one of these nerds. Please, PLEASE, stick around.

She’s got dark, (if memory serves best) somewhat frizzy hair and being biracial, she has a warm undertone to her skin. I’m not saying she’s Beyonce but to me at this time in my life, fuck yeah she’s Beyonce. Dresses fairly casual, jeans, hoody, beanie hat, yer standard “Cool Chick” vibes. Oh, and as her parents are waiting on their new house to finish being built, SHE SLEEPS IN A SHED! This won’t make sense to you, hell it makes no sense to me now, but back then, that seemed as cool as shit to me. I figure it’s about the illusion of independence or something but like I said, I’m smitten. And it turns out, so is she.

Over the next week or so, I would bring her up to my buddy.

Hey man, how’s yer cousin?

Oh I was just thinking, is your cousin still your cousin?

Haha thats so funny-heyhowaboutthatcousin?

This goes on for a time.

Eventually, my friend gets the hint that we are into each other so we start talking over the phone. Not mobiles mind you, standard house phones. They have a phone in the actual house (most rooms were done, she just still chose the shed.) so I’m given the ok to ring. I’m excitable, up to my gills in hormones and as I’d later recognise in myself, needy as shit, so I ring her.

She ain’t there. Might be home in 30 mins.

30 mins go by. So I ring again. Not home, but she’ll be there soon. She was at an acting school I think? I use to go to one myself from the ages of 10-14. Too many insecurities built up and then I bailed, as ya do.

So I ring again… And again… I’m flinching at myself just writing this stuff. On that last call, I’m first properly introduced to her father.

The Father

I was certainly not on the shortlist of his favourite people. That opportunity was burnt swiftly! He answered the phone, and man did he scare the piss outta me. I’m paraphrasing here, but he delivered this line with the aura and presence of Hulk Hogan himself:


And then he slammed the phone. Man, I was rattled to say the least. Part of me wanted to laugh but another part was convinced he’d know. By most standards, I’m a timid fella and back then, I was easily intimidated. Needless to say, I never engage with that phone again,(until that ONE time I do later on) so that puts the score as 0-1 to the parent’s team.

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So that was that. No more ringing the house. Our love had been quenched before it even started… Which, us being teenagers, did not help at all. Who knows, had we just been allowed to date, it could have ended in a month!

Let’s continue.

That’s when my friend gives me a letter.

Pen pals… With Benefits

I bet you figured out it was from her didn’t ya? If so, high five man! Go you! So she sent me a letter, telling me about her week, her hobbies, herself. Her parents didn’t want me ringing but said they’d be ok with us being pen pals, so that’s what we became.

And we’d just talk that way. About movies, about games, hobbies, what we’d like to do with ourselves… And then I fucked that up (I can see the surprise on all y’alls faces). I got a letter from her and she told me something pretty tame. That she hoped to kiss me. You know what happens next, surely?

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Great Bountiful Boners, Batman!
Maybe the final tangent here. I’ll be brief as can be but it’s certainly important for what’s going on. At this period, I’m sexually repressed. Not really worth a deep dive here, but I think it’s safe to assume I’m in a small number of 17-year-olds who ain’t playing tug of war (for one) under the sheets.

This blew my stupidly horny mind! And it causes my frigid self’s equivalent of a sexual revolution. It leads to me having soiled sheets. No, I didn’t piss myself dear reader, it was the other way of soiling them. Now, I ain’t gonna pretend that never happened before, that’s just not how biology works, especially with me being the most backed up teenager in Ireland at the time. But they are the first ones that lead to me being able to remember the dream itself that would cause the aforementioned (gonna stop using this word now) soiling. Oh, and what dirty, filthy dreams did I have you ask? Grannies, please avert yer eyes from the soon to be revealed heinous activities. Why some minor hugging and kissing of course! But that’s not the dirtiest bit. In this dream, we’re sharing a tent! And the lewdest part of this needs saving for last… We’re fully dressed!

Yes, even in my dreams, I was only capable of doing what 13-year-olds these days do to greet each other.

And, feeling brazen as I was, I wrote all the details in one of the letters to her. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!

Now, we’ll introduce the mother to this story…

The Mother

Dunno how it took as long to get to talking about her as it did, but I guess that’s just the nature of this particular beast. First off, she was religious. I don’t generally use that word as a negative trait, but she certainly had all the negative connotations the more cynical of us might associate with the word. She was part of the Jehovah Witnesses, a faction of Christianity I still know diddly about other than they wear suits, and like their kids to (more foreshadowing folks!) date fellow JWs…

Not a lot of detail here, but she gets more involved as the story goes on. This gets weird. PleasePleasePlEASE stick around.

This next part is pretty ugly, now that I think about it.

They are (understandably) concerned with what’s going on between a boy and their daughter, so decided to open the next letter that arrives. That letter, of course (of course!), being the one with the R rated, fuck factory sex-laden, tent-based fully clothed kisscapade. She gets home from school, the father I believe said some mean things that start with the letter W (and rhymes with door!) and threw the letter at her. She was crushed. Again, a form of communication is cut off between us.

So, that’s the end. Can’t phone, can’t write, for some reason we can’t email (I definitely had one, so I must assume she didn’t OR we’re just that thick) so that’s the end…

I wish, oh in retrospect, how I wish…

The First Kiss

Oh, this was a hell of a day.

Member when I said it was like an hour’s drive and I can’t drive? This sounds like nothing, I am very much an expert at making mountains from molehills, but I hopped on the bus to her town, that I had never set foot in before. Again, nothing crazy but I had no wrist-watch, so my mother gave me her mobile phone to ensure that I would be able to keep in touch and keep track of time to get the bus back home.

Slight flashback: Using a friend’s phone, she texts me to say she’s gonna take the day off school, to come to town and we’ll hang out. Ask me mom for the moolah (that means money) and off I go (my school was closed that day) to become a man!

Head into the station and I hop on the bus. So far, so good. Now this is a time before Google Maps (apparently I’m wrong on that. Could just be that I had a shite mobile or it wasn’t in Ireland), so I don’t know what my stop looks like, I just know I’ll be getting off at a bus station. Pretty simple to figure that out, I think to myself.

Slowly but surely, the other passengers are getting. Not too long now and I’ll be at my destination. After a time, I and the driver are the only people on this bus. He pulls in to stop on a bit of countryside road. I think we must be ahead of time so he’s waiting on passengers.

5 mins go by.

5 minutes becomes 10. I’ve been sitting in silence so long, I figure it would be worse to talk.

10 minutes becomes 20 MINUTES OF JUST SITTING THERE (where-ever the fuck “there” was) so I MAN UP, clear my throat, and (meekly) say;

Umm, excuse me?

THE FUCK! Have you been on the bus this whole time?

*blushes* Yeah, sorry, yeah, umm I’m getting off at X, are we almost there?

Why didn’t you say som-yeah, look, *points* go this way for 5 mins and turn right, you’ll see it.

Oh, ok, umm, thanks. Does this bus not go there?

Nah… Not today. *mumbles something and goes back to his newspaper*

Right, sorry, thanks. *shuffles off the bus* Yeah, sorry, tha- *bus doors close*

So I’m late, feeling stupid and not entirely trusting the directions I’ve been given. But with no other choice, off I went. Thankfully his directions were correct but I’m still left wondering why he just didn’t finish his route. Must have decided to treat himself to an extended lunch, I guess. So I get there and lo and behold, no one is here. My chest feels tight, a mixture of apprehension and disappointment. This town has fuck-all to do, so now I’m just supposed to-

My mam’s phone vibrates! And there’s a message.

Texting from a friend’s phone. Be there soon! 🙂

It’s been way too long to say for sure that there was a smiley face (emojis had yet to happen) but I think it’s a safe bet

So I dawdle, pace up and down the street, until…


There she is! And oh my shit was I scared. I mean yeah, excited, but certainly leaning towards scared. We were meeting up alone. I had never been in this situation before. So whatever cheesy embarrassing notions you have in your head, I’d say they are more accurate than anything I can account for. We went to a high hill, just a ways from anything to ensure she wasn’t seen playing hookey. I sweated and stuttered for what felt like an eternity. We talked for ages but alas, I didn’t have it in me to dare to chance a kiss. My head being what it is, I expected her to start crying at how bad I was, maybe even call the guards.

So nothing happened. Until…


We’re back at the bus stop now, it’ll be along in 20 mins or so. We stand around nervously.

20 minutes become 10.

We talk a bit, both turning quite shy. Exchanging nervous laughs and glances.

10 becomes 5.

I’m freaking out inside, just screaming at myself to do something quick. I’m sure, given the state of things, so is she.

The bus is turning the corner now, we can both see-And then she kisses me.

Incase ya ain’t sussed it, I’m really into Doctor Who

I’d so love to say it was romantic, that it was the perfect first kiss. The ones the stories tell us about. Considering my mindset, maybe it was? I’ll leave this bit to you.

Right away, our teeth CLASH! And I mean ALL CAPS CLASH! It’s a fucking wollop! She pretty much launched her head from a fucking trebuchet and fired it towards mine, at full speed! Now, she has braces, not that it will make much difference, but they definitely have a 15% damage bonus when in a teeth lock-up. I audibly yelp in between the spit-swapping. We keep at it, tongues coiling, teeth clattering. Only one word comes to mind; uncomfortable.

And therefore, the perfect “shift”.

It’s not even the bus that stops us. If you recall, I mentioned my gorgeous, layered hair. Some louts driving by mistake us for a same-sex couple and scream GO ON GIRLS! causing us both to burst into laughter. So yeah, kissing lead to tooth pain and lesbian hilarity is the sums of my experience. Which is no bad thing, can’t say I’d have it any other way.

We say our goodbyes and on the bus ride home, stupid, STUPID me, thinks something that is as powerful as it is awful. I’m in love. Ohhhh I wish I could shake my younger self so bad…

Later, I hear she tells her mother about what happened. Her mother is somehow ok with it but advises she not tell her father. Progress? Haha, the fuck it is!

So the final year of secondary school starts. During this time, both our schools wind up going to college Open days at the same time. So we get to see each other twice in fairly rapid proximity. Hang out, talk, and do some kissing without (but still definitely with some) teeth locking!

This time, when the mother finds out, there’s an issue. I’d imagine it is the fear that she is going to throw her future away for some boy, but if I ever knew the reason, it is unfortunately lost to the strands of time, and I have no interest in making stuff up. So whatever potential plot thread is there, I can’t divulge.

The Birthday Party and all the rest

Things start to ramp up. My parents buy me a mobile phone as they are worried about losing contact or something. Not sure what they think is going to happen. I’m either at school, at home, the cinema or a friend’s house. I am a very easy person to keep track of is my point. But, I get a phone and I get word to her. Still phoneless, she borrows a phone from her friend on occasion so we can text and talk.

Her best friend is throwing a birthday party in a pub soon, and she gets me invited. The theory is that this will be a neutral zone. I’m there as a guest, as well as she, but obviously, she can’t be denied going to her mate’s party. I think we hadn’t seen each other in maybe even two months, possibly three, which is practially forever and a day to my drama llama self. So we’re excited, to say the least.

Until she decides to admit to her mam that I’ll be there…

Why am I doing this again? Oh right, the boobs… Carry on

But then the mother is suddenly ok with it again.




Bruh, this woman, I swear to God…

So we hang out and things go off without a hitch. All fun, no drama, everything is ok. But she has to tell her mam everything. I say cool, nothing happened. Just some more good ole fashioned teeth-banging. Its a miracle I still have my front teeth.

Seriously, those braces fucking hurt

Now, having salvaged the relationship between them, my BAE starts going back to mass with her mother. And thus the seeds are planted.

No, you pervert! Not that kinda “seed”… I already said that doesn’t happen ya doof!

So, she is back to church and starts making some Jehovah friends. I’m not religious myself but when we talk, nothing seems different. New friends in tow, she is allowed to go to my town a lot more, but only so long as they come along. I assume they were supposedly meant to be our watchers or something. It was weird, but this part is brief.

Because not long after, her mother decides that she can’t go out with me. Oh, this bit MIGHT be the worst bit. I’m cringing as this comes flooding back! We’re talking full on, pins and needles type cringe. Thanks for sticking with this, and God help us all.

The Phonecall Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

She tells me to call her.

On their house phone.

Are my Gif references out of date? You tell me

She tells me that my mother wants to talk to me. That her mother wants us to end things for good but this girl, this sweet girl, has arranged it so there’s a chance. That chance?

I’m to speak to the mother right now and persuade her that I’m good for her daughter.

Dear reader, in your honest opinion, had I ever a fucking chance?

I mumble, I stutter, I sweat, fuck it, I cry on the phone to this woman. At the time I don’t see this for what it is, but this woman is a control freak, right? I mean I’m 17! And an adult woman has a 17-year-old boy ring her up, to hear him cry.

Let that sink in.

It’s fucking perverse!

She says that she is sorry, but no. But she doesn’t hang up. She could just let me lie defeated as I am, but there is more to come. My punishment must be more severe. SHE NOW TELLS ME I HAVE ONE MORE CHANCE! Take a wild guess who takes the phone next!

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A thousand screaming Jehovaniacs are about to RUN WILD ON YOU!

I promise you what happens next is the word for word exchange. As it has been ingrained into my memory, mostly because longtime friends often quote this shit back to me. As a favour to yourself, read his bits out loud, doing yer best Hulkster impression.

Please remember, this is yet again, an adult on the phone to bully a 17-year-old.


*I burst into laughter, mostly from shock*


*still laughing, the tension has broken me*


*slowly gaining composure* I’m not sure you- I don’t think



*silence. I dont think I even hear him breathe* …..

I panic and hang up. At least I had some stones there for a half minute. I like to think I shouted that out, but it was probably squeaked out, like your dog’s favourite toy. The next 30 minutes are me just crying and laughing. This shit was outrageous for anyone to be dealing with, let alone stupid, naive, timid me!

So that’s the end right?

Le fin?


But it is the last time I’ll speak to her folks, and thank The Maker for that.

One day, possibly a month or so later (the gaps in time are hard to keep track of because of, well, the gaps in time) I get a text from herself. She wants to come to town to say goodbye. She feels terrible about everything that happened and though we can’t be together, she wants to do something to make it up to me.

She wants us to exchange, and at the same time, discard, our virginities. I, being a 17-year-old boy, have wants of course, but also concerns. She is about to start dating (or maybe it’s her mother was trying to get it in motion) a fellow Jehovah Witness. So I’m all kinds of fucked up here.

Do I lose my virginity for the sake of it, with at least someone I feel I care about, who I’ll presumably never see again? Not to mention the fact that there’s a chance that this offer comes from a weird place of guilt.

Or do I have the mental where-with-al to say no, and wait for someone who won’t put me through, whatever the fuck it is you’d call this whole saga. But remain a virgin, a most heinous thing to be at the time.

In this case, the cables represent-Y’know what? I think you can suss it out for yourself.

The Meet Up

I know reader, believe me, I know. Why would I choose to meet up? I use to be quite the romantic so I’m gonna assume that I thought if I could see her again, maybe, just maybe, I could break her free from what I saw as brain-washing.

So, we meet up in town. At a Burger King, if you must (must you?) know.

And we head into a toilet cubicle.


And she begins to undress. Underwear still on, but the most naked a girl has ever been in front of me, which can only mean one thing.

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Hellacious Holy Hard-ons, Batman!

I begin to take off my clothes- CRASH!

The restroom door opens and smashes into the wall, with the sound of thunder! Inside the cubicle, we freeze up. What the fuck is going on out there?

We hear voices now, its two young fellas, and they are as rowdy as all get out. Both announce they are going to “out-shit” the other one.

And they get to it. While shitting, they are roaring at each other, saying how the other is inferior at shitting. That they only make baby shits and they are about to prove what a real shit looks like. This conversation is fucking mental, so tucked away in our none shit based cubicle, we are doing our best to keep our laughter muted.

For now, all sexiness has left the restroom. And as things should only ever be, it never returns.

One of the lads finishes himself up but never washes his hands, he just leaves. Fucking gross right? Oh, how I still to this day WISH HE’D HAVE JUST WASHED HIS FUCKING HANDS!

Brief catch-up: There are 3 cubicles. We are on the one to the right. The shit master himself is still in the middle cubicle.

All is now quiet in the lavatory. We are barely keeping ourselves from laughing. He has to finish soon and then we can get back to, whatever it is we think we’re about to do here…

And then he calls out. Hello, are you still here? he says, checking on his friend. We stay silent. He calls out again and I think I choke on a laugh.




I can only assume his mate had a habit of jumping out at him. In any case, as he was no longer with us (as in, in the shitter, I have no reason to believe he passed away), he got no reply.

Man, I can hear ya!

And then I hear the toilet seat fall from the cubicle next door.

I hear the sounds of boots on plastic as he mounts the seat.

I can see his hands come over the top of the cubicle as I sit here, with a practically naked girl on my lap, pressed into my chest.

It all feels like it’s happening in slow motion

I could shout. Just say anything at all so he won’t look over. Just scream for fucks sake!

But I don’t. I do none of those things.

The next thing I see is a pair of eyes appear above my cubicle, which practically double in size. He immediately darts away. His cubicle door bursts open and before he exits, he offers us one, barely audible word.


The restroom falls quiet again. Alone again at last.

It’s just the two of us here.

So we laugh.

Jesus christ, do we laugh!

5 minutes go by.

5 minutes become 10, and we are still laughing, me helping when I can to get her dressed.

10 minutes become 15, and the tears are still coming.

15 minutes become 20, and we have finally left the premises.

I don’t remember when we finally stop laughing, but it felt like forever and a day.

We part ways not long after, as she has to get her bus back home. I’m sure there’s a goodbye kiss but fuck if I remember.


I hope my words properly conveyed what a fucking whirlwind those 8 months were to me. I like fancy talk when I do fiction but I don’t talk that way in person, so I try to keep my language, I dunno if it’s the right word exactly, but I want to keep my words honest with stuff like this. Flowering things up would only make things seem exaggerated, or in this case, dishonest. And yes, it really was 8 months. The sad part is that the number of months together is higher than the number of days we saw each other. Hence, my “sorta” girlfriend.

We actually bumped into each other roughly two years down the road. Both were surprised to see the other, we hugged and wished the other well. Later, we both make comments to my friend (her cousin) who had so often had to act as our go-between. We both wanted to pass on the message that we regret how things went and that we are sorry for the madness we inflicted upon each other. In a way, things went full circle. It ends like it began.

With exchanges through a friend…

Talk Soon


Fuck, this turned into ALOT of words. Apparently, my word count total for the blog at this time is 10k so this fucker here just increased that count by 50%.

If you managed to soldier on through this, I hope you got something out of it.