I really (really) liked David.
I was a 19-year-old, wide-eyed, excited kid that immensely enjoyed the attention from an older (by um, two years?) guy who wanted to wine-and-dine me. (Mostly from his apartment, since I couldn’t, you know, order a glass without being carded in my quiet, sleepy college town.) He was an engineering major with a big passion to design skyscrapers (and I wanted to live in NYC, it was fate!), and though his room was messy and his shirts smelled like mildew, after two dates, I was pretty much smitten.
We went to a concert together. He took me to meet his group of friends and we smashed a six-pack. We snuggled on the couch together, talking about our future dreams and goals and passions. We made out like we only had one dying breath left on this planet, and while I didn’t sleep with him, I did heavily practice my “everything-but” rule on countless occasions.
This was originally published on Women’s Health. To read the rest, click here.