But even all that paled in comparison to the tsunami of shock that was about to drown my crappy, little island of self-pity.Ī few months and another break up later, a sporadic, yet fairly normal, text messaging conversation turned into one of the strangest phone calls I have ever had. Slowly but surely, my little slice of heaven was being reduced to a few crumbs of adolescent mediocrity.
Our friends got sick of the lovebird mania. Life seemed perfect.īut after a couple of months, things got worse. The chubby, short, teenage version of myself whose hair was an awkward length and whose boobs were the size of overgrown cantaloupes finally felt a sense of belonging with a guy who lived 30 minutes away by car and had the anatomical build of a sexy green bean. We finally met in person for the first time at my junior semi-formal and I still remember every waking moment - it had been the greatest night of my life.Īs a first time relationship often does, it made the world a blur of rose-coloured bliss in my eyes. After that, for months - on and off - we shared lovey dovey chit chat, mindless adolescent Facebook hacking (note: don’t ever share personal passwords with anyone - EVER) and gag-worthy stories of one another with less-than-amused friends. It took all of two weeks before our shared smiley face texts were replaced with crooked hearts and an endless number of X’s and O’s. Our relationship blossomed my junior year of high school after an accidental introduction via a mutual friend. I have no doubt that I came long after any self-doubt he might have had about his sexuality, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel as though I played a part in it. Okay, so maybe that isn’t exactly how it happened. So today, I am going to share with you the story of how I turned my very first boyfriend gay. I have grown up believing that while moments in our life may not define us, they certainly do give meaning to the lives we lead. This feature originally appeared in November 2018 issue of Cosmopolitan UK.If your boyfriend ever tells you that he thinks he’s gay, don’t offer to help him find a guy to experimentally make out with. If I had the chance, I’d do it again now. It all kicked off for a while, but I don’t regret anything. He only found out about Dante a few months after we split up. My boyfriend and I eventually ended things – although not as a result of the cheating. We watched him leave, then got straight into bed with each other.
We even did it in my boyfriend’s bed after he’d gone to work, when Dante had been staying over. I reasoned that as I’d gone this far, I may as well carry on. The next morning I knew that I’d crossed a boundary and couldn’t go back. My orgasm shuddered through my body as Dante clung onto me. The slowness of it, accompanied by the knowledge of how wrong it was and what would happen if we got caught, meant that the entire experience was electric. To minimise the noise, we had to move against each other slowly as I tried not to gasp out loud with every thrust. He rolled my sleeping bag off and I locked my legs around him as we began to kiss, undressing each other quickly but quietly. "We had to move against each other slowly as I tried not to gasp out loud" And I always thought about him when I was having sex with my boyfriend. We hadn’t even kissed but I would sit up at night describing exactly what I wanted him to do to me. That led to filthier, much more explicit messages. But then one night he asked me what I was wearing, and when I told him about my outfit he said he could really picture how sexy I’d look… At first it was just chat about where a party was. Still, I wasn’t sure he liked me in that way – until we started texting.
And when I did, Dante definitely flirted back. This meant I had to spend a lot of time with him – at parties, round at my boyfriend’s house… wherever we were, Dante was too, so my crush on him intensified.įor a while, I tried to push down my feelings, but I found that I couldn’t help but flirt with him. But Dante was, unfortunately, off limits: he was my boyfriend’s best friend. Jet-black hair, moss-green eyes… he only had to glance in my direction for my stomach to flip. The problem? Sexually, I just wasn’t that into him. He was gorgeous, funny and all my friends loved him. When I was 18, I was going out with this totally picture-perfect boyfriend.