Not so IdolMature

Sam was amazing. After talking to him, my mind rang with things I'd say to him the next day for hours. My skin tingled where he'd touch my arm or when he'd high give me. He became many entertaining daydreams.

And yet, in all perfect things, there is a flaw. I found his through texting. In person, he was there, perfect and loveable in every way. One time, there was a difficult race, and I’d been so tempted to stop, and I though of him. He was so strong, so hardheaded. He’d laugh I’d even consider stopping and be so ashamed if I ever did. When I finished that race, beating my best time, I told him he was one of my idols. He became embarrassed, he told me not to idolize him, and he told me he wasn’t worthy of being my idol. I was sad he couldn’t see himself the way I did.

 

Through texting, he had things to hide behind. I couldn't always tell if he meant what he said or if he was messing with me. You can't convey emotion through text. He asked me later that night what made him an idol, and I told him the truth. He told me it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. He saved that text. But then followed up with, “Hey, so since I’m your idol does that mean you wanna fuck?”

 

I didn't like it, but I figured I needed to get a thicker skin because things like this happen.  I had a new attitude, things couldn’t touch me. And besides, it wasn't him I disliked, it was him hiding. He was a good guy; I saw it everyday in person. I only disliked his phone, and I thought I could see past it.

I started noticing a pattern in myself. After texting him and our conversations turning to the ever-present topic of how great my ass was, I'd lash out at my closest friends in annoyance, and be happier around those I felt more uncomfortable with. At school, I smiled more, I had more things to say, and I laughed. I liked that for once, I understood the cool people. I had something cool about myself too; I had the hottest guy in school after my ass. I liked being wanted, and I liked not giving it to him, making him chase me. Guys don't chase me, and I found I enjoyed playing hard to get. He was too. 

This was my happy phase. I had the grades, the friends, the guys; I was content with my life and myself. I didn't have to prove myself to anyone because being myself around Sam got me a whole new level of confidence. HE liked me the way I was. I could talk, and be funny, and we'd laugh all the time and never run out of things to joke about. I began seeing myself as beautiful. I looked in the mirror and didn't see the flaws. I looked for the things Sam saw in me, and there were lots of them. My smile became bigger, the food tasted better, I laughed more and more people liked me. It was only an upward spiral, or so I thought.

Whatever comes up must come down. I knew I was going to come down, and I became afraid. I wanted to keep everything the way it was. I became afraid if I did anything slightly different, it would all go crashing down. But this wasn’t how I’d been thinking earlier. I had more of a “You only live life once, so make it count attitude” and then now I didn’t want to pay the consequences.

More stress boiled over, and I stopped finding Sam’s texts soothing, and just got annoyed. I am a strong person, I’m not shy, I’m not going to take this sexual oppression, or whatever we want to call it. I told him to stop, I told him it was getting old.

He pretended not to know what I was talking about. I played his game and hinted what I wanted. He wanted the truth, and directly asked me if I wanted to fuck him. Frankly, I didn’t, and I hadn’t lied to him before, I wouldn’t lie to him them. So I forced out the truth. I told him flat out I didn’t want to fuck him, no matter how much he adored my ass. That’s not all there is to me.

Now the issue with relationships is your seeing that person because you like them. There are so many valuable things in them that you want to get to know them more. And so you do, and you get to know so much about them, every aspect. You know the real you, the real them, a good relationship there is no smoke and mirrors. So when I told him I didn’t want to fuck him, through a text, I was rejecting him as a person. I was telling Sam, the one who made me laugh, the one I couldn’t stop thinking about, the one who made my skin tingle, that there was something about him I couldn’t stand, and therefore he was not worthy of having sex with.

And so that’s the way it came across to him. Not the fact I was a virgin and not ready. Not the fact I saw him as this guy so much better than I, and didn’t think I was worthy. No, rejection is harsh, and vague, and he will never know the true reasons, because I was too afraid to say it. I just wanted to be friends, and I couldn’t say that through a text, so I told him I wouldn’t fuck him.

And so I rejected the bad boy.

The End

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