Lifestyles Of The Perpetually Damaged

I was cheated on by the first person I ever dated.

I don’t presume to be alone in this, but its a shitty place to start your adolescent life when your first foray into socially sanctioned sexual development ends with the first person outside of your family to say ‘I love you’ walking the local mall with someone else who is wearing your shirt. It was not subtle. Retrospectively its a stupidly obvious situation. It was 1998. We met outside of the local Hot Topic. And lets be real, I was 12, he was 15, and whatever was behind door number two was giving him the business. Tale as old as time. I’d rather be left minus one shirt than coerced into shit I wasn’t about. Oh well.  We’ll always have Ozzfest?

I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like to start off differently. To have had a relationship that tapered, or dissolved easily, without a bunch of lies and bullshit and missing KoRn inspired Adidas gear (IT WAS 1998 STEP OFF). To start off with an arguably healthy template of interpersonal romance. Would it have even made a difference? Adolescence is a shitshow for everyone. Being dumped wasn’t exactly a cakewalk later on either, so maybe my current state was unavoidable either way. And a part of me thinks an early introduction to assholes was probably the biggest favor universal chaos has ever done for me.

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