those were the days (part 3-the final chapter):

I went to hm, had lunch, and called a different dude. One that I’d had sex with in the past (I’ll call him the dude that taught me how to give blow jobs), who was more grown up and able to be a pal. Plus, he’s the one who vouched for the shithole, so he owed me. He was staying at a very successful painters apartment in the east village. I had never heard of her, but today she is by far my favorite painter ever- past and present. He was house-sitting. He said I could stay with him. Cool. But I didn’t wanna have sex with him at all, and I knew I’d feel obligated. He’s a dude, I’m a girl, and we’d already had sex. I shouldn’t have gone to New York. God, being a teenager who thinks she can handle everything can be very confusing. I was low. I was depressed. I thought what I looked like was the only thing that defined my self worth. Me in this mind frame made me no good to anyone.

He was friends with all the coolest kids. The elitist that you read about in all the cool mags. So I drank to avoid being ill at ease. I met the dudes’ cousin (a guy in well known band), his cousin’s girlfriend the photographer. And her best friend-a fashion designer girl with a successful line of clothes and her very own store. They told me that they only wore string bikinis to swim in. and made it very clear that they were best friends that comprised a dynamic due. It was not and COULD NOT be a trinity, with me included. I didn’t even have time to decide if I liked them, before they made it clear they were excluding me. But then again, my self-hatred was so strong that day-I could be shading this thing all-wrong. But I don’t think I am.

We sat around and watched network. The only one who wasn’t there was the woman who owned the apartment. I’m still confused at how the brokest cool kids get the craziest hook ups that allow them to float. We listened to Andrew wk and talked a bunch of random bullshit. And eventually everyone went home, leaving me and ‘the dude that taught me how to give blow jobs’ to ourselves.

I dreaded this, cuz I wasn’t feeling sexy or sexual. But he was slowly morphing into a self-proclaimed doctor. A doctor of sexy. Healing girls who didn’t feel good about themselves. He’s decided to take me on as his first patient. Ahh! He pulled my pants down, on the floor of the living room. My period was nearly over, but NEARLY means I’m still bleeding! I mumbled…”no, um, don’t…I, um, I’m having my female problem” (female problem? If I could have punched myself in the face to snap me out of my bullshit, I would have. But I was inside my skin. Too deep to see myself. And take ownership of myself. And stop apologizing for myself. Like everyone else was ok, or good, and I was lucky to be among them. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it!)

He didn’t stop pulling my pants down. Huh? That’s weird, I thought. I said it louder now, and more matter of fact “but I have my period.” He looked at me, and I looked back at him. His head between my legs, he just smiled. AND THAT’S WHEN THE GNARLIEST SEXUAL EXPERIENCE HAPPENED TO ME IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!!!!!!
He very coolly and calmly, pulled my tampon out of my vadge with his teethe, tossed it aside, proceeded to go down on me..........and I’m pretty sure I came.