Most likely to succeed?

So I have mentioned before my theory that every guy that has ever broken up with me has gone downhill. There's the drug addict, the deadbeat dad, and more recently I found out about the one who walked away from one of the most prestigious events in his career and never turned back, for no other reason than he was having a diva moment.

Anyway, this isn't about them. This is about HIM. The guy. The one who will forever be known as the boy who took my virginity. Or who I gave it to, rather. Why do we say took? I wasn't so overly guarding of it... That's neither here nor there.

We dated for three months WAY back when I was 14. He was aggressive, but not in the way that one forces themselves on you. Persuasive. Yes. He was sure, and I felt I should get with the game plan. He'd already been having sex, and apparently his first was pretty much an adult. My personality is such that I'm usually half paying attention and because of that, I always feel like whatever is happening, I'm the last to be in on it. Sex was one of those things. I just wanted to be done with it. See what the fuss was. He seemed like as good a guy as any, especially since he wanted to. Interesting dynamic.

He was smart. We met in honors biology, which, if not for that one class my life would be very different (he and I broke up, my seat got moved, I made a new friend, she introd me to Kesi). He was in the "talented and gifted" program at our school. He was in the band too. He was also a jerk. He told me in front of the whole class that he'd cheated on me, but did it in such a way that they knew what he was talking about but I didn't. He never liked me to look into his eyes.

This nature: the aggressiveness, smarts, and his snide jerk-osity, all this made me believe that he would be successful at something. Maybe a salesman? He had the smile of a salesman. One of those "hey, what can I say? I'm charming!" smiles. He did sell his penis to me, after all.

My first time was ugh, wack. 3 days after my 15th birthday. I had bunk beds. And big, unsexy underwear by Fruit of the Loom. I was nervous and clenched. He was... Intimidating. He was at least 60 lbs heavier than me, all muscle. Cool and calm and yet, impatient. If I'd taken a step back, I would have seen that if it weren't me, it would have been some other girl (he had dated girls who looked like me. Even those with sort of the same personality type, and those who were also virgins. They didn't have sex with him. Smart chicks). My Lord it hurt. I don't remember enjoying it, what with the flinching, but I remember pain. I also remember naïve Joy, feeling awash in emotion, linking the experience with something "deeper," despite his nonchalant attitude.

We broke up shortly after my mother grounded me for having sex in her house.

So Friday, in the hotel, Kesi and Thurm were mocking my choice in boyfriends. Who was gay, who was generally lame, yada yada. And my first came up in convo, naturally. "he works at Turner Field, selling... Hotdogs, and stuff." ew. How sad. "I saw him on the bus a few months ago. He said he was working as a bouncer at a strip club and got fired for-" Fondling a stripper? "no, I think it was some other dumb shit. Smoking weed out back or some other shit." this from the man who used to call me Dirty Smoker because I'd managed to start and quit cigarettes by 9th grade.

Just proves my point. Once you do Joy dirt, you get dirt done.

And I was right about one more thing: he IS a salesman...
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