Almost.

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The first woman I could have had has been haunting my thoughts this week.  Usually these pass.  I try to ignore these sorts of thoughts, memories, or just enjoy or suffer them quietly.  I have to write about this one.  Every time I turn around, look closely at something else, or look away, there she is.  No, I will try to ease her from my mind through my blog.

She wouldn't have been my first lover, if we had gone there.  No.  What she would have been was my first love.  A very different thing.  A love is owned, a lover is had... once or several times.  She was the first possibility, as a man, to have, own, a woman.  It would have led to marriage, children.  I knew she was open to me.  I was interested.  It was a serious, often unspoken, series of events.

She was the wrong woman, for many reasons.  That didn't matter.  It was the weight of her... request.  She wasn't offering sex, she was surrendering herself.  It was more than I was ready to handle.  I was 18, she was 26 or so.  Delicate, pale, slim, blonde, petite in all ways, and ready.  That was one of the more difficult situations I have ever been in.

Unlike the video, if it indicates some of the hopes of what might have been, and recalls her form in an uncanny detail.  I wonder why I must be so honest?  Why not just have betrayed her trust.  I know, had I to do over again?  Nothing would change.

I walked, clean, right... hollow, hungry.  I cannot go where not invited, nor will I take what is offered for a price without paying that price.  Some offer more freely, others not so freely if rather trusting.  I... still think of her from time to time.  But this time... I hope she is well.