I grew up without much extended family; really much family at all. I am an only child, so I have no siblings. My mom and dad were both only children and so I never had any real cousins to grow up. My dad had some half brothers and sisters who had children, but they all lived on the east coast of the US, so as we all grew up we never got an opportunity to hang out.
I grew up in a bustling, beach community in Southern California, so I had plenty of friends, and a lot of girls to hang out with. I went to parties, had a few girlfriends here and there, but spent most of my time concentrating on academics. I was well-liked by the people that knew me, but I wasn’t necessarily popular.
Late in my high school years, I began a budding running career that promised to take me far in college. I was 5′ 9″, 160 lbs, and I could set out on a run and run forever. When I realized I could also fun faster than anyone else, it went from being something I did, to something I loved to do. I started winning races, not only in high school, but all over the region. Running in the year-round So Cal sunshine, made me look like I had quit school and spent all day working on my tan at the beach and went well with my bleach blonde hair. My successful running, and my beach-bum looks, greatly increased my popularity and I started getting invited to a number of parties toward the end of my senior year in high school.
I was 18 and dating a 20-year old college sophomore who had decided to stay home and attend a 4-year university. We had plenty of opportunity to have fun together, but our sex life was still building and we hadn’t “gone all the way” yet and I was itching to. I was still a virgin, although I didn’t admit it to anyone.
Amongst our regular schedule of activities were beach parties. Nothing better than a Friday night bonfire on the beach, having wine coolers or beers, grilling some hot dogs and smores, and just relaxing on a warm spring night on the beach. On this particular Thursday, I was trudging through my AP classes, but clearly my mind was focused on the next night. Gretchen and I had been invited to, what promised to be, a killer beach party. To top the night off, her parents were going to be out of town so we planned to go back to her house and, I prayed and prayed, finally have sex.
I headed out for a training run after school on Thursday, returned to my car, and glanced at my phone. There it was. Another nail in the coffin of being a horny male who was still a virgin. Gretchen had received very poor comments from a professor on a project and had to spend all weekend rewriting it; there would be no beach party, no visit to her parents, and no sex. Nothing at all. While I understood, my disappointment couldn’t be contained and I fired off a rude text back: “If you had done it right the first time, you wouldn’t have to redo it.” Had I stood even a glimmer of hope to see her that weekend, that ended it; and maybe forever.
“I need to concentrate on getting this project done. I will talk to you Monday. We need to talk.”