There’s always the one that got away – that one person that you really thought you could make it with, but for one reason or another it didn’t work out. Doesn’t everyone have a story like that? Here’s mine…
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I fell in love with a prince of man. Well, he was barely more than a boy, just as I was barely more than a girl, but in the way of people in their late teens to early 20’s, we were extremely mature. At the time I was engaged to a man who had suddenly decided that girls were icky, but he wanted to marry me anyway and have a family. I would be free to take lovers for my sexual gratification. It sounded dubious. The Fiancé and I both fell for the Prince. I left the Fiancé, desiring romance over a sexless marriage and became roommates with the Prince.
There was a time that I made love with the Prince while the Fiancé watched, making suggestions from the sidelines, but the Prince very politely rejected the Fiancé’s advances. I think each of us wanted something we couldn’t have. It was all very sad and poignant. Still, I had incredible energy with the Prince. When the two of us were in a room together everything focused on us. We were on fire.
I wanted the Prince desperately, but he wouldn’t commit. We could fuck like crazy, but he didn’t love me – not like I loved him. Before long he fell in love with someone else. It was painful to watch him be in love, waiting to hear her voice on the phone, seeing his face light up at the thought of her. I spun into depression. One morning while I was planning my suicide in the shower, I realized that plotting my death had become a habit, one I wanted to shake. I decided to live.
I went and woke up the Prince to ask him to drive me to the hospital so I could commit myself. He pulled me into bed with him, holding me while I cried. He nuzzled into my hair and whispered, “You know, you are really sexy when you’re depressed.” And he proceeded to make love to me. It was very bittersweet (not to mention less than ethical). It was also our last time – 17 years ago.
It was a difficult transition after that. I was focused on turning my life around, starting the work that’s consumed my adult life, both personally and professionally. I moved. I moved on. I’ve found happiness. The Prince married his Princess and they started their life together. They have lived happily ever after.
Fast forward to present day. It was with a little bit of trepidation that I invited the Prince and his wife over for drinks a few nights ago, when Harold and I happened to be in their area. I’ve been on Facebook with both the Prince and his wife, but it’s not the same as sharing space with someone. I imagine that they must have been a bit cautious themselves, but we ended up having a great time.
I know that I felt hurt and confused so many years ago, but I don’t even remember why any more. Having the Prince sit across the room from me, I was reminded of why we had been friends originally. He is still all of the things that I liked when we were young, but he’s developed maturity to temper it, and the depth of experience grants him solidity. After the initial uncertainty, we all relaxed and had a good time. Maybe it’s just that I drank more than usual.
I had a few moments of unreality, where I thought, I have had sex this man who is now a stranger in my life. But then he would make some teasing comment to me and I would be amazed at how well he knew me. I was surprised to realize that the only thing I feel towards him now is a certain fondness. No hard feelings. I like the man he is now. I like his wife. He has chosen a different path than mine and that’s good for both of us.
I’m just not sure what the protocol is for old lovers. Hopefully, if you’ve had sex with someone you want to stay friends, but I’m really only friends with a few lovers from my past. I think we navigated the situation pretty well. I sat next to the Prince in the hot tub, hugging the corner out of politeness, trying not to let our skin touch. Then I thought, fuck it. We have been way more intimate. I once gave him a hand job in a movie theater. And I didn’t worry when the back of my hand came to rest against his arm. I would be way more familiar with a friend I hadn’t had sex with. Once I stopped worrying, it was all good.
I am so thankful to have had this opportunity to reconnect. It feels very healing to realize that there is happiness where there was once pain and anger. I am very fond of the Prince and pleased at his successes. We found a lot of common ground in discussing parenting and sex. I think I need friends like this – people who remember spreading rumors in our circle about me being a pro domme. And as the Prince’s wife reminded me, I was holding a bull whip the first time she met me. I guess that makes an impression.
I don’t know if we will ever be close friends, but I feel like we’ve finally cleared up enough of the past that being friends is possible. It hurt like hell to be young and have my love rejected. I’ve learned so much about myself since then. Once I would have thought that making amends with the Prince would involve his apology, but it turns out that by making amends with myself, an apology isn’t necessary. We’re friends.
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Vulvodynia: wherein our heroine goes mad but finds it boring and decides to do something else
- The secret to life
- Starting the difficult conversation
- Bad habits
- Break the boxes
- Piece of ass
- Cherish every minute
- Be here now
- Beauty of today
- Magic words
- Fear and arousal
- Balance and bliss
- The window to your soul
- Cross-section of a sex life