Every day of my life.
You always remember the first. It was my 18th birthday and her name was Miki. I met her the same way any teenager with anti-social tendencies met the love of their lives: Myspace. Her style was a confused bunch of j-pop and goth. I specifically remember her smelling like Hot Topic. Pale, skinny; skinnier than any girl that age should be and now that I’m older, I’ve come to the conclusion that she had an eating disorder.
She adored me because I knew how to play the guitar and called myself a songwriter. I adored her because she was inspired by Japanese culture, which at the time was important to me. We never really spent that much time together. Aside from the first couple of weeks, our relationship, if you’d call it that, was adolescent. It was the age of experiences and she was exactly that, an experience. If I seem heartless about the whole situation, then I do apologize. Back then I truly believed I had feelings for her. I was heartbroken when she left me but I was young and ready to believe anything.
They say you remember the first time it happened but honestly I have no recollection of any of it aside from it being dark and smelling, again, like Hot Topic. What I remember the most about Miki was the night we spent fooling around in a cemetery. It was the first time we met and the first time I had done anything with a girl. I was absolutely clueless. There were no guidelines to go by, no rule book or power point presentation on how to get to third base let alone on what to do once there. The windows of the car fogged up and I thought of myself in the movie Titanic. We breathed hard as our bodies rubbed up against each other and I could feel how wet she was though her schoolgirl skirt. My phone died while we explored each other’s bodies which during that time my mother thought I was dead. My poor, poor mother.
There was nothing special about Miki aside from her being the first. We met up a few times after we broke up for an occasional night together. I like to think of those nights as the kind of nights when you find someone who feels just as lonely as you do and sleep with them.
So what happened to her? She moved to Arizona, miscarried a child, moved back and held a few jobs before moving in with a guy that looks like I did back in 2006.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t think every girl I’ve met was a stupid bitch.
Without friends, you wouldn’t believe how fast “facebook” time turns into “eat, masturbate and sleep” time.
I think it would be really funny to go to Africa and show them Man Vs. Food.