I decided to write a short-short for this “first time” writing contest, mostly for shits and giggles because I liked the topic, but I felt the need to paste it to my blog in an attempt to encourage people to a) read it and rate it on the dublit site and b) give me some midget feedback as to any last minute thoughts before I post it. This story is true, if words could blush they would right about now, and if Charlie S. does read this, I’m sorry. Both for the false “I love you” and for writing this overly honest story.
What Are You So Afraid Of?
The first time I said “I love you” I didn’t mean it. I was dating the first of three Charlies that would stick to my life like the mold ring growing around a bathtub. Even when you clean the mess up, something worse develops to murk up the bathwater. At fifteen, I thought my life story was meant to have a Charlie S. as the first of many loves. We had been dating for nearly two weeks, a period of sexual experimentation involving various sofas, an unreasonable amount of hand to body grazing, and R-rated films we paid little attention to. Night thirteen, curled on my mothers mauve, rose patterned love seat, we groped each other in a well mimicked game of Twister while Family Guy laughed at us on the television. Or maybe it was The Simpsons. I’m not sure.
Charlie S. was a miracle worker with his hands. To this day, no one can make me as hot with a simple touch-push of the buttons as Charlie S. could. It was his magical fingers and the fact that he made me chocolate covered strawberries for Valentines Day that made me fall in love with him. I imagine now that he probably isn’t nearly as successful with his member as he was with his fingers. Supposedly he went to school to become a psychologist, or biologist, or some other kind of –ist, when he really should have done something with his hands. A pianist perhaps.
That night, he kissed me. Too much tongue. I kissed back, colliding teeth with teeth. As his saliva sunk in, fully moisturizing my lips, I took a cue from The Partridge Family and announced “I think I love you”. He responded thoughtfully with the “I only want to say it when I really mean it” lie we tell ourselves. Had this happened to me today I would be mortified, but at fifteen I accepted his response as just another example of how perfect my boyfriend was. Already mature. The episode ended and Overboard starring Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell came on. Five minutes and one hand job later, he said “I think I love you too”.