I was so happy with my new boyfriend, he was the first one I had that I took seriously. I was in love, at least I thought so. I still do count him as a marker in my life of growing up. Realising that I could feel so good by just being with somebody. He meant the world to me and I'm pretty sure I meant the same to him. After a couple of weeks we went to "step-up" the relationship.
It was 6th of May when we finally lost our virginities to one another. We had attempted several times before but just couldn't seem to get it right. Don't ask how that's possible, it just is. Finally we had his house to ourselves as it was voting day and his parents had gone out also, rather ironically, it was his mother's birthday. I won't go into details but let's just say it was a thrill for both of us.
We lay drenched in our sweat laying on his bed. Exhausted yet pumping with adrenaline. It had felt so good, a new experience we would continue to try nearly every day for months on end. What can I say? We were hormonal teenagers up for a bit of action. We curled up into one another, completely naked, feeling as though we were joined. And we were. I believe that whoever you lose your virginity to you gain a special connection. For us it was one shared connection that, weirdly enough, still remains. Whenever we meet we still feel the rush that we did when we first started going out. That is how I can claim him a soulmate. Soulmate to me is someone who has a connection with you for the rest of your life, whether you act on it or not is another matter.
Time passed and everyone favoured us as the ideal couple. We were the parents of our group and looked after everyone. I planned everything as usual and soon the summer holidays were in full swing. Yet we had to seperate as both our families were taking us on holidays. First he went abroad to go to a family wedding whilst I went to Germany to visit my step-dad's girlfriend's family. It was amazing but I could feel we were slipping apart. Then we had a day together before we journeyed again, him to Ireland to see his family on the farm, and me to Isle of Wight to visit my grandfather and chill on the beach with my best friend and dad.
There's a mini story here as to how I set up my best boy friend (I call him my brother as we're that close) and my close girl friend. They had met at a house party I held in between my holidays and were continuously texting and calling each other while we were on holiday. Eventually (with my help) he asked her out and she was absolutely thrilled with her first proper boy friend. It ended in October, a couple of days before her birthday however. I won't go into details but it wasn't a pretty break-up.
Now after returning from our holiday both couples met up and we chilled at my house. My boyfriend proposed to me with my mother's old ring (yes at 14, I know). I accepted and we were joyously happy, keeping it from our families.
Then disaster struck. Nothing can ever remain perfect for too long, life doesn't like you taking the easy route. My step-father had discovered my planner and had found out about my sexual life. He called my father and soon the whole house was upon me calling me names and banning me from seeing him. My dad even went round to talk to him but luckily it was just a friendly chat. Then one day my step-mum took me round to see my step-father as he wanted a chat with me.
We sat in the living room, him shouting at me and blagarding me in every way possible. Claiming I should've used a dildo if I was so horny. It horrified me him speaking this way but most of all it infuriated me.
A story I hate to admit but it's only the truth. My step-father sexually abused me. On nearly a weekly basis. Since I was 10. He would come into my room at night and do things to me or himself. I was so scared I never told anyone. Not to mention, that house was my safe haven away from my step-mother, I would rather endure all that emotional pain than have to spend time near her. I was trapped between two horrible scenarios. Going from one painful experience to another.
Then my step-mother found out. She followed in his footsteps and found my diary (even though I'd only left it for ten minutes hidden at the back of my bookshelf). After reading about everything she came into my room and said she wouldn't tell my father if I did house chores. I agreed yet the next day she had told him and everything in my life shattered into fragments. The next month was a rush. I spent my birthday in a police station being questioned on the entire event. The outcome was devastating, there was no evidence, he was free. His girlfriend was still planning to have a baby with him.
I guess some people are just too friendly.