My Mumbling Thoughts

I remember the first foursome I ever had. Well, the only foursome to be correct. It wasn't long after Ash and I had broken up the first time, and I was left alone in a giant building with nearly three-hundred middle-aged men that always stared at me while I typed prettily behind my desk. They disgusted me and I always said no matter how desperate I got, I'd never touch any of them with a barge pole. Aside from the interns who only came around during the summertime, I was the youngest person there at the ripe old age of twenty. I'd prance around the office in my cute outfits, teetering on my designer heels and knew that the majority of the men that I came in contact with could barely speak without chewing on their own tongues. It never made me uncomfortable, but more angry that I couldn't even go into work without having to swat off their inappropriate comments about my tiny size, my young legs that easily carried me everywhere and their accusations that I teased them simply with my presence.

But back to the foursome. I was "tricked" into it, and because I was pathetically naive back then, I didn't understand what G meant when he kept on asking my friend, Sarah, if I was "cool".

"Is she cool?" he kept asking her. And Sarah kept on reassuring him that, yeah, I was totally cool.

After G left us outside in the suffocating Virginia heat, Sarah asked me if I wanted to go out to a happy hour. Of course I agreed, because when do I ever turn down a chance to get rat assed drunk? I don't. She told me that we were all going to meet up at seven after work and that her and I could meet at work and then drive over to the bar together. It sounded just like every other happy hour except she told me not to tell anyone else about it.

"We want to keep it quiet, you know, only a select few that don't piss us off," she explained to me. And it made sense. It sounded fine to me, and I was glad that I wasn't going to have to listen to Earl ramble on about his pyramid scheme and try to convince me to buy his book on money saving strategies.

Seven o'clock rolled around and I met Sarah in the work parking lot, just like she said and told me that we were going to meet G and another guy, C, at their hotel. Apparently all of the bars were strict on carding on this particular evening and they thought it would be safer, since I was still underaged, if we just hung out at their hotel room and drink beer. I wasn't too keen at first, but Sarah said that it would be fine and it'd be fun.

So there we sat, just the four of us, in G's hotel room drinking light beer and watching Deadwood on HBO. I felt like I was back in high school, awkward and unsure of what to do. I didn't even like beer. Where was the vodka? Or the southern comfort? Or hell, even the tequila? I nursed one beer for about an hour and that was all I drank the entire evening leaving me stone cold sober.

I'm not entirely sure how anything got started either. It just seemed like one minute we were watching TV and the next Sarah was sitting on top of G's lap making out with him.

Huh. So they're like that. That's cool, I thought to myself. I knew that Sarah was separated from her husband and on the side she would hook up with random co-workers whenever she felt like it. I never judged her; I could care less who she slept with. Of course there wasn't much left for C and me to do except sit there and make even more awkward small talk.

C told me that he had never done anything like this before, and the only reason why he even considered it was because G said that it would help his marriage.

"Do what?" I asked him stupidly.

"You know. This."

I sat there trying to grasp onto what he was saying and it finally smacked me right in the face when Sarah lead G into the bedroom part of the room and tossed her top aside.

Ohhh....wait a second. I'm supposed to be - with C - here? Now? Oh god.

I could have gotten up and said no thanks, it's not my bag of goodies. I could have left. Nobody was forcing me to stay there and participate. But for some reason I stayed. I stayed and I let C take my halter top off, and we shared the bed with Sarah and G only to switch partners halfway through.

To this day I'm unsure of why I stayed. I was completely sober and if I had it my way I would have been out my face or on my drug of choice, but that wasn't an option. I don't even remember much of anything except that I didn't like it, I faked it the entire time and didn't even feel like I was a part of the whole thing.

A couple of days after the whole ordeal, I sent one of my favorite bloggers an email describing the entire evening and asked her for advice, for guidance, for support. I told her that the whole time I didn't feel like I was there; it was as if I was hovering above near the ceiling and watching some other person inhabit my body, and I observed the entire thing from a bird's eye view. I told her that I didn't have anyone to talk to, anyone who wouldn't judge me; I mean, I had just slept with two married men and a married woman (who, yes, was technically separated). I was confused and felt entirely alone.

She sent me a full response that helped me find the light at the end of my mental tunnel. There was so much in her response, but there was one part in particular that stood out to me and to this day I live by her words:

I think the best gift you can give yourself is a blank check to make mistakes. Forgiveness is divine, and finding the divinity within yourself is crucial.

Those words were exactly what I needed to help me move past that situation and not make it out to be some kind of huge deal. I had had a foursome. So what? Okay, they were married, but that was their problem to deal with, not mine. I even forgave Sarah for not telling me the whole truth about what was already planned for the night, and told her that in the future she could trust that I wouldn't freak out and go mental on her. I was capable of handling those situations, but I'd like to be prepared for them beforehand. I like to be kept in the loop.

I took that night and my mentor's words and decided right then and there that I wasn't going to feel bad about my mistakes any longer, whether they be sexual or not. I was young, single and allowed myself to live freely without reservations. It made me brave. It occasionally made me reckless when I wasn't in a sober mind. And it enabled me to live with myself and be okay with the life that I was carving out day by day.

Now, almost three years after I sent her that email, I'm happier with myself than I ever was back in VA, or with any of those old perverts that fantasized about me and fucked me to feel younger and better about themselves, regardless of how I felt. I feel more in control of my life and comfortable in my own skin. I know there's still a lot of things that I need to come to terms with, but I'm sure I will with due time. But I've had my time alone, I've had my one-night stands, I've had my fair share of drunken encounters and drug/booze infused nights. For so long I was scared to allow someone into my heart, so I kept them at arm's length and felt more in control when I was emotionally detached from them. Now I just want someone who will look me in the eyes when we lay together. Finally I can say that I'm ready for that.