For the record, I genuinely am not a fan of Justin Timberlake. He has an okay voice, but after seeing how he treated Britney Spears and how he left Janet Jackson out in the cold for nipplegate, I’ve realized he might not be a good person. Someone’s actions tells you far more about them than their words. He may be a perfectly lovely person, but I will proceed with caution in regards to him.

The only reason I’ve included him now is because it fits the narrative I am trying to tell. The only song of his I have genuinely enjoyed and like is a duet he did with Chris Stapleton. (P.S. check that shit out. “Say Something.” Ugh, so good.) This particular song reminds me of a specific person and time in my life. One that lasted for two months but it felt like it was forever.

Have you ever heard that old saying “to get over someone, you just need to get under someone else?” Well, in an attempt to get over Sergio I tried to slut my way to emotional freedom. Thank Albus that Grindr didn’t exist at that time. If I had had untethered access to horny dudes I would have been a way bigger slut. All I had at my disposal was AOL chat rooms and that was a hit or miss situation. I didn’t even know gay.com chat rooms existed. Which is a blessing in disguise because it kept my selection limited. Being the pulsing sack of testosterone, I ended up meeting with this much, much, MUCH older dude who had promised a “fun time” with a third. I was hesitant, because I had met with this gentleman once before and he was a weirdo. Not the scary kind. He was just sad.

This guy was infamously known on AOL as Blur69. While not caring for his aging mother, he was fishing for dick online. The first time we met up he was stinking drunk. When this older woman came out to investigate the noises, he pushed me into his bedroom, shut the door, and turned to viciously yelled at her to get back in her room. Super cringe.

While in the middle of doing “stuff” he fell asleep. I showed myself out and swore I would never meet up with him again.

Well… Evidently my resolve is easily ruined with the offer of a three-way.

Please, keep in mind that at this time I am 17. I look back now and yeah, cool, they helped a sister out, but they 1,000% should not have. I was underage! Regardless… That did not stop me.

The night of the promised group action I snuck out my window, stole my parents car, and drove across town to meet with “Boozy” and mystery dude.

The third turned out to be this twenty-something man named “Mike.” He was a chubbier than described and had a nasty attitude. When I met him I wanted to turn around and leave. Did I? No. For three reasons: one, I am someone who feels obligated to follow through with an agreed upon event; two, I was freshly thin and knew what it felt like to be rejected for my weight; and three, I was blinded by my sex drive. Plus, I drove all that way on a suspended license…

Not even two minutes in Blur69 passed the fuck out. It was down to just “Mike” and I. We did our thing and snuck out, hoping not to wake Blur’s mother. On the way to our cars we started talking and he was very nice. Not my type in the slightest, but nice enough that I was willing to exchange numbers with him. That was the last time I ever just willy-nilly handed out my digits. To this day, if I do give it to you, it is the equivalent to a commoner being knighted. Okay? So feel honored. I don’t like random people messaging me. It bugs.

Before I had set this boundary for myself, “Mike” continued to text me randomly. We ended up becoming pretty good friends. Unfortunately he liked me way more than just an acquaintance. Those feelings were not reciprocated. But did that stop me from agreeing to meet with him when he dangled the opportunity of another three way? (Are you seeing a pattern? Because I am.)

Against my better youthful judgement I let my libido answer for me and agreed to meet up with “Mike” and another stranger.

(Side note, I don’t know how I’m still alive, with all of the risky shit I was willing to do. Truly.)

Once again, after my parents were soundly asleep, I snuck out and met the two men at a hotel around the corner from my house. There I was introduced to the married man who would become my second “boyfriend,” Jason.

Jason was 10 years older than me, with a little pooch, blonde hair in a buzz cut and tons of freckles. At the time he was married to a woman and had 3 little boys around the ages of 6 months to 4 years old. How they knew each other was that “Mike” lived with this growing little family and the two worked together at a telecommunications business.

That night, Jason and I ended up being the only ones to do anything. To this day I would describe our encounter as electric. He and I had this connection I could and cannot explain. I did not want it to end and we only got to third base.

The entire time, Mike sat in the corner of the room, sulking. I expected him to join us at some point but evidently he was waiting for an invite. Without any explanation, he got so offended that he grabbed his things and left the two of us in the room alone.

“Okay,” I said to Jason.

“Eh, don’t pay him any attention. He’s just butt hurt. He’ll get over it.”

I drove away from this episode thinking I would never see him/them again. But I was wrong.

As it was, Jason had also felt the same way about our tryst. In a roundabout way he got my contact information and from the moment he first instant messaged me on AIM, we began meeting nearly every day. I was on my summer break from high school and Jason was on medical leave for his gall bladder. His wife worked an office job so that meant we had full access at his place.

At first I was uncomfortable with the entire thing. Who was I to come in and ruin this man’s marriage? My friends told me to be careful. And even when we met up one time and I saw his son’s car seat in the back seat it made me cringe but did not deter me. I didn’t seem to care. It was then that I adopted my personal philosophy when it came to married men: I don’t care, I’m not the one cheating.

I genuinely don’t know how his wife never caught on. We texted constantly. He would find any excuse to come and pick me up at my parents house. We would drive somewhere and do our thing, and each time was awesome. I will not lie to you dear reader. I think the sin of infidelity made it all the more delicious. (Eesh I’m not a good person.)

One night he picked me up in this old, white Ford F-150, with Justin’s song playing on the radio. He said, “What do you think of my boyfriend?” Referring to Timberlake.

“Meh,” I said.

“Bitch!” He replied.

Again… I am truly dumbfounded that she did not know.

Jason broke it off with me the day before the start of my senior year, at the end of August. I was annoyed and pissed that I did the most immature, manipulative, thing I have ever done; I lied about killing myself. I know as a sane adult that you don’t do shit like that. Then… I knew I just didn’t care. I was burnt out that I was dumped AGAIN that I wanted someone else to feel uncomfortable.

It wasn’t long before I was absolutely over Jason. Yeah, it was fun while it lasted, but what was the end game? He wouldn’t have left his wife for me. I was still in high school. The best option was for us to go our separate ways. Whatever it had been had run it’s course. He had to deal with his shit, and I needed to grow up.

Years later we reconnected and I apologized for being so immature. He found the courage to come out to his wife. She took it really well and they’re still very good friends. They talk to the other about their boy problems. And it’s weird seeing photos of their sons… They’re literally the age now that I was when I met their father. While I haven’t, because I lack the courage to do it, I have wanted to ask how he would feel if one of his sons met up with someone ten years older than them for sexual encounters. It’s interesting to see the difference of opinion when one is on the outside.