jdgentleman

On innocence

dearcoquette:

I have been with my boyfriend for a little less than two months now. We are both freshmen in college and for both of us, this is our very first relationship.

When I am with him the thought of having sex with him is fantastic and makes me happy, but I’m so so terrified we are moving too quickly. That and terrified of what having sex with both of us being virgins will be like. He says that no matter what, he will wait until I am ready.

I love him and he loves me, yet I don’t know if this is BECAUSE neither of us have dated anyone else. I’m just not very sure of myself and I would love to know what you think. Thank you!

You’re adorable, that’s what I think. First love. First relationship. First time having sex. It’s all too precious for words.

Enjoy yourself. Just be present in the moment, and don’t worry so much about getting it right. It’s not gonna be perfect. Not even close. That’s okay, though. You’re supposed to be clumsy and clueless and terrified. Enjoy that part too, because as ridiculous as it sounds, one day you’ll miss it.

You don’t get to be sure of yourself yet, but don’t be afraid. Everything has a beginning, middle, and end. You’ve got a lot of beginnings going on right now, and that’s a beautiful place to be.

Don’t be afraid of any of it.

Scroll to the emergency contact: his name pops up. Mail would come in stacks for both of them and he’d scratch out the “s” in Mrs. when it was addressed as a couple, even though they never made it to a ring. They slept peacefully on patterned sheets that took 50 minutes of argument in the isle to reach a compromising color. They shared three bookcases full of fiction and textbooks and combination of 5 degrees between them and one photo of a kiss at a café in London. Inanities in objects and routines about dinner and dishes and who’s socks and cardigans belonged to who and a weekly Friday morning brunch. (I’ll never have class on Fridays and he’ll go in late). The tangible things of meaning that even boxes of cards and letters couldn’t capture quite perfectly. Birthday cards from his mother signed to the other him, photos of nieces and nephews that put uncle in front of both of their names. An apartment life, a family life, an adventurous one, a shared one. I know that wouldn’t last forever, not even a bulk of my life but I’d really like to fill a chapter up, someday, full of such a life. 

I’m sorry that chapter is slow to start, volumes of prologue before you reach my belt. I’m an open book but you read far enough to flip through a few appendices. A few pages are glued together, very rarely does someone even notice. I wanted you to read those bits, the first to learn. I peeled those pages apart too late. You should have been given time to write new words there, begin new chapters, thrust yourself, immerse yourself in my untouched pages. I wish we would have spilt that ink. We missed some of the most powerful parts of the plot. I wish it could be rewritten.