This is the third entry in a series, where we publish personal stories from people our writers have reached out to in person (having obtained their consent beforehand, and preserving their privacy). We have renamed the woman Anne . We have also transcribed a recording of a conversation between one of our writers Anne (having deleted the recording afterwards, as she demanded).
TDS = The Daily Steem
Anne:
During high school I had a boyfriend, Darren [name changed]. He was a gentle guy, and I trusted him enough to lose my virginity to him. (smiles) Perhaps it's an uncommon thing to hear, but I have a fond memory of that moment...
I'm pretty sure Darren loved me. He would wait until I'd finished class to drive me home. It seemed he would just call me whenever a thought passed through his head. He'd always call me.
TDS: Did it ever bother you?
Anne: Honestly? No.
I didn't love him. He was popular and admired by everyone at school.
I wanted that. I wanted to know what it felt like to be the subject of daily conversation. To have people fawning over me, trying to earn my attention.
I know. You'll probably think I was a vain, immature girl. And selfish.
TDS: How did it end?
Anne: High school ended and his status no longer mattered.
I would be lying if I said I cared. I never loved him to begin with.
Back then, I would find it difficult to open up to people. Like, genuinely. On a heart-to-heart level. Opening up made me feel vulnerable. Exposed to the cruelty of human whim.
I didn't want that. So I wanted to protect myself, and Darren offered me...hmm...social protection.
TDS: Has that sentiment changed now? Do you find it easier to open up?
Anne: Ha-ha. Not at all. (smiles)
I've dodged three marriage proposals and haven't stayed with someone for longer than a year - well, since High School.
One man, Frank [name changed]. Invited me over to his family's home. I pretended to enjoy my stay. I laughed and joked. But inside I felt this crippling emotion. It really pained me. It was this feeling of being at anyone's mercy. I just wanted to curl up in the fetal position in some dark corner and cry.
I didn't ever want to feel like that again. So, I dumped him a few days after. Never talked to him again.
I still refuse to open myself up. To make myself vulnerable.
Love sort of requires that you open up - right?
So I guess, I refuse to love.