And the Award for Second Shortest Relationship Goes to....

As it became a theme with me, I did not stay single for long after S's and my breakup. It was mere days afterwords that I began a relationship with Mike.

Mike and I met about two years before. He was three years older than me, in the same grade as my sister. We hadn't seen each other until I began high school, where I was a freshman and he was a senior.

Mike had been in a committed relationship for quite awhile, that is in high school terms. For a whopping 7 months his lips were perpetually attached to a junior girls. Not surprisingly the girl who he dated came to despise me. The problem with this was she happened to be one of my closest friends older sisters, an awkward equation for our (fairly frequent) sleepovers.

The junior girl wasn't the only ex in Mike's life that made our short-lived relationship one for history. No, Mike's other infamous girlfriend, none other than my sister. Just imagine the glares across that kitchen table! What can I say? They dated for about two weeks two years before and it obviously led nowhere. Plus, I was swooning over the fact that an older man really liked me!

Mike and the junior girl broke up right before Valentine's Day. This was the same Valentine's Day that I sat in bed waiting for S to call me. Mike and I IMed the entire day, mostly because we were the only two lonely saps who were online complaining about our lack of love. When I broke up with S the next day, it gave me a reason to slide right into a relationship with Mike.

For ten entire days, Mike and I held hands in the hallways, kissed before class and sat at lunch together.  The perfect, stereotypical high school relationship. We only saw each other outside of school once, when we went to a movie (I paid for myself). I don't remember what movie exactly but I do remember Mike attempting to make-out the entire time. At this point in my life, I was still terrified of wet, sloppy french kissing and avoided all his advances.

Other than that one outing  we spent our entire relationship on school grounds, both during school hours and after school. About a week after we started to see each other, my sister ratted me out to my mother. She spoke to Mike's father and with parents advancing upon us, a few days later we were forced to break up.

To be honest I don't remember much about this little ten day stint because it became such an inconsequential bleep on my radar. My most vivid memory was one day in the cafeteria, when a friend of mine caught a whiff of my new perfume and commented I smelled like her grandmother. Mike leaned down and took his own sniff of me and promptly agreed. I was pissed at them for the rest of the day.

Mike graduated that spring with my sister and lead a fulfilling life working at our local Target and attending community college. I used to see him when I'd go to Target, where he'd come bounding up to talk to me. At first I was flattered by his advances, but then they turned annoying and eventually downright creepy. My friends and I would run and hide like a fucked up game of hide-and-seek every time we would happen upon him in our shopping trips. To my knowledge, he complete community college and is working a full time job from his parents couch, ensuring that the TV stays tuned to crappy anime shows at all hours of the day.

The Time I Almost Became a Lesbian

Life is filled with firsts. Toddler's take their first steps, adolescents have their first day of school, preteens get their first kiss. Today, I write about a less traditional first, one that's rarely talked about with family or friends. But, nonetheless, every boy and girl remember when they see the opposite sex's genitalia for the very first time.

The penis I particularly speak about was attached to a boy who I'll refer to as S. S attended that same sleep away camp that I met Ethan at. After Ethan and I broke up, S and I became very close friends. I knew he liked me but after the disgusting slobber of a french kiss, I was frightened to be subjected to such an event again. So although I was flattered that a boy a whole year older had a crush on me, I held him at arms length.

S and I used to get into all sorts of mischief that summer together. We were known for slipping away from our bunks to meet in the middle of the night, sharing stories and contraband candy. During the traditional summer camp Color War, we were put on the same side and he was one of the captains (the 15 year olds, because it was the last summer they could attend as campers, were always the captains of Color War). S got into trouble for sharing some secret moves, songs and ideas that the older kids had been brainstorming about.

On the very last Shabbat that summer, S and I ditched Israeli dancing to sit on Havdalah Hill and stargaze. The pitch black gave us an amazing view and as we viewed the stars twinkling above us, we shared our very first kiss.

After that, we were officially together. When we left camp two days later, we promised to constantly keep in touch via texting, emailing and phone calls. He lived an hour and a half south of where I did, close enough to see him once in awhile but too far for our relationship to go much farther than that kiss on Havdalah Hill.

At first, S texted and/or called every day. We were infatuated with each other and about a month after camp ended, he came to my hometown to visit me. We spent a wonderful day together, being chauffeured around by my mother. After he visited, the texts and calls came a little less often.

Around Thanksgiving I went down to visit him. I stayed for two nights in the guest room at his house. We went to the movies with his friends, spent time with his family, and had an excellent time together once again. One of the nights I spent there, S told me to meet him in his basement. I remember it being almost 10pm and I was in the guest room putting on makeup and perfume when his little sister (who was 11 at the time if I remember correctly), came in to say goodnight.

"Why are you putting makeup on to go to bed?" she asked me.

The only response I could think of was, "It's for the man of my dreams." She seemed to accept that and headed off to her own room.

When I went down to the basement, S was already comfortable on the couch watching TV. His family snoozed carelessly away upstairs, unknowing that a young girl was about to be confronted with one of the most frightening things she had ever seen!

Looks appetizing, Miley...

We put a movie on, and after some light petting and kissing, S removed his pants, his hardness evident through his boxers. I knew S had already lost his virginity and here I sat, never even seeing a penis! He asked me to touch it, to give him a handjob. And then there it was, popping out of the hole of his underwear! This was the very first time I had ever seen one and after a few nervous strokes, declared I couldn't continue. He tried to convince me that night to let him fuck me, which I adamantly refused.

When I returned home, his calls and texts came even less than they were before. I would hear from him once, maybe twice a week. This thoroughly saddened me and when I attempted to ask him to contact me more, he told me to stop being so needy.

The breaking point came on Valentine's Day. All day I sat at home, anxiously awaiting a phone call or a text. My phone did not ring once. The next day I called him and told him it was over. He didn't seem overly surprised nor did he care very much.

Penises are ugly creatures. My first viewing of one was a scary moment. Wiry red hair attached to freshly dropped balls and a small, circumcised dick haunted my dreams for weeks after I saw it. I even convinced myself and my family that I was actually a lesbian female because of my fear of penises.

Obviously I'm over that now.