Were We Really 16?

He has a girlfriend now. A girlfriend he says he will not give his left hand to, but I can tell he will.

Its been ten years since my thumb pinched his lower back into my palm while we took each other’s virginities.

We were foolish and too young, and we knew it. Beyond the door was the company kept at the time; people I have since severed from my adult life. The pressure of their judgment pinned us down in the bed that night.

A boy, now a man.

He rarely crosses my mind. Though, when he does, its always fondly. The memories tiptoe before moving way for the present and politely exiting. Nodding their decencies to me, letting me know they remember, but they must be going. It’s a relief we’ve made it this far.

He was my first everything.

Like learning to ride a bike or losing baby teeth, it was enthralling, magical, painful, making way for bigger things. Something that you, unless a horror occurs out of nowhere, experience once — and only once — in your life.

And I’m glad it was with him.