DUE TOMORROW! PLEASE READ AND CRITIQUE!

[starfire]

[When I was fourteen, I wanted nothing more than to be loved by a human being of the male gender. The idea consumed my mind; I longed for that completeness that was shared by couples, the secrets that they whispered, and those lighthouse smiles that cut through the crowd as they walked together in the hallway. As a freshman in high school, I wanted nothing more than someone to hold my hand and to play with my hair, to tell me I was beautiful and wanted; two months later, my prayers were answered.

My saving grace was not attractive, by any means. He was five foot five inches tall with a chunky composure and no fashion sense. He had little self-esteem, he wasn’t a deep thinker, and most days, he wore clothes so tight that you could count his stretch-marks. He gave me the attention that I wanted, however, so I saw past every warning sign, everything that I didn’t like about him. It wasn’t long before we were going steady, and he started asking for more.

I never really thought about sex before I met this boy, but when he told me he loved me, told me all his plans for “us”, everything he said ravaged my senses. I started creeping out of my house, a stow-away in the night, longing to find him and discover this magical new world that he created for me. When he suggested we have sex, I said yes. After all, he loved me, and we would be together forever.

I thought my first time would be magical, something out of a romance novel or Cosmo. I didn’t understand it then, as he shuddered with approval, sweat running over his cellulite, that sex was something sacred, something to be shared between two people who loved each other. I groaned and acted like I was having a good time. I didn’t care much that I wasn’t getting anything out of it. He was getting what he wanted, and I pretended that was enough for me.

It wasn’t long after that I started to realize I wanted somebody I could talk to, somebody I could listen to, a person who had dreams and desires and hopes beyond me. I realized sex wasn’t what mattered, even though I thought it was what I wanted. I tried desperately to reach out to him, discussing literature, music, astronomy, and history. He would smile and nod, smile and nod, until the fire ran out of my eyes and I just gave up. He would shrug it off and laugh, saying, “I’m glad you have dreams, Sarah. I just wish I was the most important thing to you.”

It hit me that whenever we got together, we had sex. Whenever we talked, it got physical. When we were on the phone, he only wanted to masturbate. Every move he had made so far was to get down my pants. I can’t say I did anything to stop it, but where was the love he had professed? Where were those secret smiles and whispering and giggling? I couldn’t understand how fractured my vision of him had become, couldn’t understand where the boy that I loved had gone. My ears were ringing. Had that boy ever really existed?

We broke up for good in May of 2008. It was completely my decision. The fact was, I didn’t love him, and I wasn’t sure I ever had. I had given him everything he wished for, he had used me and dreamed on me, and when I wasn’t need, he discarded me. I begged for us, I cried for us, did everything in my power for the “us” that I believed could exist. In the end, it was my choice, and in the end, I chose myself.

It wasn’t until later that I realized what a mistake I had made. The mere sight of him invoked the use of my gag reflexes. The image of his body touching mine revolted and haunted me, as I considered the thought that I meant nothing more to him then the cum-stained rag he had hidden under his bed. When he passed, I would shudder and pray that my life was a bad dream. Feeling guilty, greasy, and covered in an unforgivable sin, I cried for nights on end, wishing I could erase those mistakes, those visions of his putrid, hair covered anatomy suffocating my own, his insistent mouth and penis, his very soul which had no life and no purpose, feeding on my body and all of my dreams.
With all of my heart, I prayed that somebody could find the compassion to want me. I was worse than the monster I had created, worse then the obese boy who thought it was necessary to use me, worse than the bile the floated up every time someone mentioned his name. I spent hours in silence, contemplating everything I had done, my sanity, my purity, my sin, and could not figure out how anyone’s heart could be filled with pity for a damnable creature like me.

Then someone came out of left field.

Scottie walked into my life and immediately took interest. I told him the truth, everything I had done and said and been: everything I wanted and desired. A fellow Christian, he didn’t judge me, didn’t point or accuse. We spent countless hours over the phone, reveling in the likeness between our two selves. It wasn’t long after, that he decided he wanted to be with me. .

When it came to sex, I was honest; I told him I was done with it until I was married. Scottie could relate, because he was, and still is, a virgin. I admitted to him that because of how sexual my last boyfriend had been, I was actually afraid of being with someone new. I was scared to begin a new relationship, scared to start over just so someone else could confuse me and neglect my heart. I was in tears I was so afraid of losing anymore of myself to another inconsiderate and unfeeling man, no matter how much I liked him. He said to me,

“I don’t want you sexually, Sarah. You are beautiful, but I want you for your mind and the soul that comes along with it.”

For the year and eight months that I was with my boyfriend, I believed that he loved me for me and that sex happened because he loved me. I never thought for a second that I was his tool, that he would use me to get off and get on with his life. When we broke up, I realized that sex was not only unnecessary, but it ruined relationships. It’s shouldn’t be about one person; it should be about two people committed to each other. I wish I would have taken the time to consider that before I made the biggest mistake of my life.

The thing I love about the relationship I have with Scottie is that it’s not based on sex. Physical attraction, yes, but because we are abstinent, we are learning to trust each other, to appreciate each other. I know that there is a reason he came into my life, and I believe, God willing, that this time, we will create a relationship built on a stronger foundation. This time, the man I’m with won’t love me because of sex; He will love me because of my mind and whatever it is that makes up my heart.

And that is more then enough.

[heinzs]

In my day such honesty wasn't really allowed in school. I think it's a very fine essay. I have nothing I can critique about it.

[JGarrison]

i think this is very well written (big surprise eh? :P) i only caught one little grammatical error here

I prayed that somebody could find the compassion to want me. I was worse than the monster I had created, worse THAN the obese boy who thought it was necessary to use me, worse than the bile the floated up every time someone mentioned his name.

other than that well done sarah

[starfire]

my teacher asked us to be honest...
I was really surprised that I could do that, since this is another hard subject for me to write about.

thank you so very much.
I appreciate your help. :D