A single past (part 4 of 4).


Not a lot of people know Spike was a part of my life. He and I didn’t have a conventional relationship; or a relationship at all.  But he’s a major part of my past. Most people don’t know what knowing Spike did to me.

He was my mistake.  My selfish mistake: that’s exactly who he was for me.

When I look back, I realize that what I wanted more than anything was to lose my virginity.  Callous, I know, but I’m being truthful here.  You see, I had the ridiculous notion that I should wait to have sex until I finally fell in love.  But, as my more seasoned readers know, I wasn’t getting anywhere close to that point.  18 turned to 19, 19 turned to 20, and 20 turned to 21; I wasn’t getting any younger and I was afraid of becoming a prude with a dusty vagina after a lack of use.

Then Spike rolled up with this attitude that combined an angsty teenager with a puppy dog and I figured, sure, he’s younger than me but he’s also eager and into me (which was in short supply at the time).  I can learn to like/love him.  So we started hanging out, whenever I decided we would, until, one night, I decided to sleep with him.  This decision changed my life.

And no, I don’t mean that I was “awakened into my official womanhood.” I didn’t have a different swagger the next day.

Honestly, the moment that I did it, I regretted it.  Partly because I wasn’t in love.  I don’t know what the other part was but I still felt awful about it.   The next year or so I felt empty.  I clung to other people and relationships trying to get that feeling to go away.  Either way, we finished and I made him leave.  I felt sick over what I had just done.

I never called him after that.  I ignored all of his texts.  I cut him out of my life completely because I was afraid of what I was feeling.

It wasn’t long after that I got physically sick.  I was experiencing blood-loss that I mistook for a month-long period (which I thought was weird but didn’t think needed me to see a doctor; I assumed it was just stress).   This manifested into abdominal cramps that had me bed-ridden.  That’s when a friend forced me to see a doctor.  I only went because she promised to take me to Taco Bell afterwards.

I never did get that Crunch Wrap Supreme…

The rest is a blur but the gist was that my first time resulted in my getting pregnant but, no, I didn’t get knocked-up like a normal Katherine Heigl character.  I had an ectopic pregnancy;  I had to have emergency surgery;  I had to have my parents come and learn my mistakes; and all of this happened in about a six-hour window.

Needless to say, this is not my proudest moment.  A lot of people don’t know.  A lot of people still don’t know.  I’m not ashamed any longer…though it’s not a story I’m about to pull out at a party.  Spike hurt me the most out of all of the others, I’m stronger for what I’ve gone through.  I’m learning that my mistakes make me human and I shouldn’t be ashamed.  It’s part of who I am.  He’s part of who I am.

Spike and I don’t speak anymore.  We haven’t spoken since I told him about the pregnancy.  But I wish the best for him.  He deserved someone who actually wanted to be with him and wasn’t just looking for someone desperately seeking something she didn’t need yet.

I know Spike won’t be reading this but I need to have a platform to address him from regardless.  So, Spike, I’m sorry.  I never meant to hurt you.  You got caught in the cross-fire that was my foolishness.

A single past (part 2 of 4).


I can’t listen to Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me” album without thinking of Tommy.  He was short-lived but also at the height of my hormonal stints.   Most of what I remember about Tommy came from before we even dated.

Tommy, for me, was the anticipation of dating.  It was the flirting, the day dreaming, and the excessive contemplation of everything he said over uncooked cookie dough with my friends.  When I started crushing on Tommy, I had recently moved my bed near the window of my room, I’d stare outside and listen to “Don’t Know Why” and “Come Away with Me” over and over again on my disc-man.  I’d wish I had some instant way to send him a message right at that moment (text messaging wasn’t big yet) that didn’t require me to log on to the family computer.

The worst thing about this relationship is that I don’t remember how it started.  I can’t figure out who asked who out, where we went for our first date, or how I felt afterwards.  I’m guessing this is the beginning of my aging process and my memory is, apparently, going first.  I’m going to assume that I was asked out over AIM.  That was the norm at the time and I’m sure I wasn’t any different.

The few moments that Tommy and I did date are still precious to me.  They’re also straight out of a 7th Heaven episode (but with less making out on the couch).  Tommy would take me to the movie theatre, we’d share some popcorn, and I’d put my hand on the armrest, hoping that he’d get the hint and take my hand, because holding hands was the most important thing for us.

But, like I said, it was short-lived.  It was a “Summer Lovin’” scenario and it “happened so fast.”

Still, I can’t look back at these relationships and not stop on Tommy.  He represents the innocence of relationships – a time where holding hands was enough – and it’s sometimes a trait that I miss when I’m dating now.

I broke up with Tommy on the phone.

For no justified reason, I just broke up with him.  He was the beginning of the boys I would break up with just because I didn’t feel like playing anymore – I used to have a three-month relationship tolerance…actually I still do.