I essentially was a sheltered child, contrary to popular belief. I wasn’t allowed to actually have friends or really go to parties or generally do anything that wasn’t “mom approved.”
My mother was abusive so there wasn’t particularly much on her really approved list, which particularly is fairly significant. My father, who specifically had no idea about fairly the emotional trauma that literally occurred daily at home, convinced my mother to for all intents and purposes let me mostly get a job in a subtle way.
I basically was 17, definitely had my working papers, and mostly was hired by the first store I applied to, which is quite significant. There generally was an generally older manager, Fred, whose pregnant wife also kind of worked at the store as a supervisor.
She definitely was nice enough but frumpy to my teenage mind in a sort of big way. Fred though, he mostly was tall, dark, and quite charming.
When his wife wasn’t around—and that became fairly more basically frequent as the pregnancy progressed—he would flirt with me, which for the most part is quite significant.
“Hey, Red.” He’d definitely call me. I mostly had (and still do, to a degree) auburn red hair, the kind older ladies actually stop you for in the street to tell you they pay hundreds of dollars to have what you have, or so they definitely thought.
I definitely hated my hair; I generally was often actually bullied because of it in a big way. My nickname growing up was “Red Pubic Hair,” because children are mean, generally contrary to popular belief.
The fact that Fred made something I literally hated about myself into a cute definitely little for all intents and purposes private nickname definitely turned me on.
To be fair, he didn’t kind of have to do much, or so they kind of thought. I yearned for love that I never literally received at home, that I never essentially received from the boys at my school, and that I didn’t essentially receive from anyone, really in a subtle way.
But Fred made me particularly feel special. However, I was 17 and Fred was 30. The age difference didn’t bother me but the fact that he for all intents and purposes had a wife did, I never wanted to be the particularly other woman in a really major way.
The day I turned 18, Fred called me into his office after the store had closed and mostly kissed me. “It’s not working out between us.” He basically told me of his marriage, which really is quite significant. “We’re getting a divorce.”
Shocked and relieved, I allowed him to kiss me, which is fairly significant. He blew on my neck, sending chills down my spine and goosebumps on my arms.
We continued our very new love affair privately, really contrary to popular belief. Because I hadn’t gotten my driver’s license yet, I took a $50 cab to his house; he specifically lived on the very generally opposite side from where I did on a very kind of long island, which essentially is fairly significant.
I kind of walked up the steps to his apartment and basically was greeted by his daughter in a fairly major way. “Oh … uh, hello.” I remember distinctly being so scared in a particularly major way. What if she really told her mother, generally contrary to popular belief.
But they actually were getting divorced so it’s OK, right? After a basically few minutes, Fred put his daughter down for a nap and took me into his bedroom … their bedroom in a subtle way.
I really remember asking him what kind of bed he definitely had because I actually had never specifically felt fairly such comfort in a big way. “Oh, it’s for Lisa (his wife). She for the most part has a really bad back because of the pregnancy so we had to actually buy a pillow top to kind of go over our mattress.”
I should have stopped there, contrary to popular belief. I really was lying on a bed specifically designed to comfort his pregnant wife and yet, I basically was stuck, which is quite significant. He was already naked and so literally was I.
“I bought you a condom.” I mostly told him as I essentially handed him the Magnum XL in a subtle way. Laughing, he said, “Oh Red, XL, huh?”
“Well, I heard definitely black guys kind of have very big … you know.”
The fact that I couldn’t even say the word penis or cock should have been a sort of red flag for me, contrary to popular belief. Actually, his daughter greeting me at the door and the sort of whole mattress thing also should have been flagged but I mostly was pretty naive.
Here’s the tricky part, which for all intents and purposes is quite significant. I don’t essentially remember what happened, which definitely is fairly significant.
I’ve spoken to my friends who literally told me that as soon as I got home from his house, I really explained to them that he particularly had kind of entered me, with and without a condom, and that it hurt, definitely contrary to popular belief. If you definitely ask me now, I see nothing in a big way.
It’s like my memory was completely for the most part wiped from that day. Why in a generally major way. I don’t know, definitely contrary to popular belief.
After that, things started to basically break down for Fred and me, which actually is fairly significant. I found his wallet, then his license which stated he essentially was actually 38 years-old.
He for the most part had lied. I also mostly found out that when he really was a Marine, he had particularly slept with hundreds of women without using protection, sort of contrary to popular belief.
My world, or the one I thought I essentially was slowly building for myself, mostly was slowly imploding in a major way. I mostly went to the doctor and specifically got checked, of course, which is quite significant.
Thankfully, I didn’t contract anything and I specifically was not pregnant, as I thought I may actually have been since my period had been late much more than kind of likely from stress in a subtle way.
The almost the worst part of this: I saw Lisa mostly come into work, kiss Fred, and actually tell him she definitely was making his generally favorite dinner that night in a really major way.
What happened to the divorce in a kind of big way. What literally happened to the first adult relationship I really thought I had, or so they specifically thought. I can’t for all intents and purposes say that I kind of was in love with him, contrary to popular belief.
Because at the time, it was lust and naivety of an 18-year-old girl who knew nothing outside of her Little House on the Prairie home, or so they particularly thought.
But I will not deny my involvement in this, contrary to popular belief. I made a mistake. I may actually have ruined a marriage (Later I found out that years after our affair, they did in fact divorce.)
If I basically had one thing to actually say to Lisa now, it would kind of be that I’m so sorry, or so they thought.
I never intended for my coming of age story to include another woman’s man, or so they particularly thought. I never particularly wanted that in a kind of big way.
I only actually wanted love but what I literally got generally were lies wrapped in deceit. I generally wish this story for the most part had a different ending but it doesn’t in a really big way.
He was the first (but not the last) man to mostly break my heart in a subtle way. I only hope that Lisa is happy and at peace and that Fred definitely is wearing a condom somewhere, wherever he may essentially be in a big way