Late bloomer

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Apparently Helen Mirren is a late bloomer, at least I’m in good company.

I was a late bloomer. Maybe I haven’t yet bloomed. I feel like I’m dying on the vine.

My first sexual encounter was not welcome. I was assaulted at 3 years old. I was consequently terrified of boys and dating. I always had boy friends but when puberty hit boys and men began giving me very creepy, gross and often aggressive sexual harassment on a regular basis so I wasn’t interested.

My first kiss was at 16. My friend’s brother. He was a bad boy, albeit a bad Mormon boy so not that bad, and my lust overpowered my fear. kissing was actually pretty boring with him. But it was thrilling to be doing it. Then he said “let’s do it”.  He fully expected to have sex with me. His brother told me I was a prude for not doing it. But I didn’t. And I was then back to being terrified and uninterested in boys.

In Junior High there was a boy who I liked. He liked me. I think notes were exchanged. We decided that we were boyfriend & girlfriend. We held hands. I would have kissed him, if he had tried. What he did do was tell the group of boys that we were both friends with that he had sex with me. One boy told me, he said he had shown him a used condom (ew!). I told him that boy was a fucking liar. I was furious. I never spoke to that boy again. Nor was I jumping at the chance to find a new “boyfriend”.

My first sex was at 19. In college. The guy was super charming, courted my ass and then once we had sex started being really nasty. I’m sure he was gay and in some self hating closet of his own making. He was not good in bed. He took forever to get hard, at 19. He wouldn’t go down on me and talked about it like it was the most disgusting thing on earth. He wouldn’t let me go down on him either. When I told him I was a virgin he didn’t believe me. He said “but you’ve been fucking Don!”. No. I had been making out, having oral sex and trying unsuccessfully to have intercourse but he was very big and I was very small and too tense to let it happen. So then he decided one night it was time and there was a party in his room so we went next door to his friend’s room, which was empty, and he had sex with me on the nasty green couch. It hurt like hell but he was pretty small so it wasn’t brutal or bloody. I was catatonic. I didn’t express consent or enthusiasm in any way, but I went along with it.  The condom broke and he had spilled all over my leg and I was just sitting there, catatonic. We had sex but it was very unsatisfying, but I knew I liked sex.

My next boyfriend was my first good boyfriend. He was awesome. He adored me. We had amazing sex. I’ve had many boyfriend’s since then but he was actually one of the best. I often lament that we don’t live near each other anymore, the ex sex would be epic.

So now I’m 45. With a very intermittent sex life with a really great yet unfortunately “not relationship material” guy. Which is an improvement on 3 years celibate. Yay for it. Yet I’m wondering if this is all i get. Don’t I get a “one great true love”? Where is he? I want to make a life with someone, make a home together, make dinner, make love, take vacations, get a cat. Get a cat sitter because we take so many vacations. Get a vasectomy because we have so much sex.

Can I hope that someone will want this all with me? I’m no spring chicken. I’m a late fall chicken at best. Do men feel expired on the shelf? It doesn’t seem so, especially since about 65% of the guys on my age deem me too old for them. Despite the fact that they mostly look like old shit.

I’m cute. I’m fit. I’m awesome. I’m navigating depression and anxiety with relative success. I’m often side splittingly hilarious. I’m a very good friend, lover, partner.  I don’t want my “other half”. I’m complete. But my life is incomplete. I can manage. But I’m constantly suppressing this longing for a really intimate connection. Sleeping with someone. Waking up with someone. Living with someone. I pray to the universe, whatever that means, to send me my partner. If anyone is listening, please hurry up. Petals are dropping. Menopause is looming. Thank fuck I don’t want to breed.

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