The Flip Flop Girl

Flip Flop Girl: My Bloody Valentine, My First Love

You would think that a girl calling herself "The Flip Flop Girl" would have been in heaven during high school. Hormones are surging and every fucking day is like going to the beach--or it can be. So many girls, so many of them, parading up and down the halls in flip flops. You tell me what's going on there. You ask one of them if they have a thing for feet, or inclined towards creative foot love, and there's no telling what the response might be. The more bold ones might fess up to a sexual connection. Others would deny any such connection. And still others would maybe blush but give such a coy smile that would leave you wondering. I suppose I have to admit that I trod around in flip flops still not sure of what I wanted and might have been shy to admit how hedonistic I felt inside. Better to let my feet speak for themselves, right? And then see what happens. I think that is how a lot of girls tackle it: they know that pampered feet in flip flops equals a sexually charged image but they may or may not come out and say it.

You would also think that after that summer of decadent playing doctor with Timmy boy that I would be in a rush to get my next sexual high. I would be this liberated libertine ready to hop in bed with the first football player I could find. Well, the truth is, that I did feel free after Tim but I was also a bit spooked by it all. I think what I really wanted and maybe actually needed was a gentle geeky boy.

David turned out to be the proper boyfriend I'd been looking for. It's a little painful to write about him. He did nothing wrong but ultimately I had to give the big, "It's not you, It's me" speech that no one wants to give until they feel there is no other way. David is actually someone I'd be curious to see how he's doing these days, as opposed to Tim who left me cold. As with Tim, so with David. He was important for my development. I don't mean to sound cold myself. In fact, at the time, I can say that I was in love with David. He was my rock. He was the guy I could depend upon. And, at the time, we fell deeply in love right from the start like a couple of crazy romantics.

We shared freshman English and had gotten to know each other fairly quickly and found ourselves inseparable. The two of us looked great together and we could banter back and forth like we'd known each other forever. The two of us were tall and thin and fabulous. He was actually a little thinner than me. I never went in for looking a certain way and had nice curves. Well, I still do. He, on the other hand, was perhaps a bit too lanky. He was always on the go, very much into soccer. I never got into sports that much. I've always enjoyed running and going to the gym but never much inclined to competitive sports. Anyway, he was a bundle of energy. He had dreams of becoming a writer someday. And he was very much into music. He was very much an Anglophile and leaned towards a mod look. As we eased into becoming a couple, I suppose I found myself becoming modish too. I know I wasn't wearing flip flops as much. Actually, you'd have more likely found me wearing Doc Martens.

I remember the first time he got me back to his room. He had such a massive collection of LP's along with CD's that it scared me at first. We listened to My Bloody Valentine. As we lay on his bed, he started to get a little more excited. He always seemed a bit sad but the prospect of sex seemed to liven him up. It was no more of his comparing me to the Pre-Raphaelites and now it was on to business. I found his kissing me a little forced and hard but I was getting turned on all the same. He was too silent. I wanted to hear a little more before he got to the goods but he seemed intent to see how far he could get. He got as far as my bra. "Do you want me as your girlfriend?" I blurted out. He nodded. "Do you want me?" I taunted. He leaned over to undo my bra and I grabbed him by the ears. "Do you want to fuck your girlfriend?" "Yes, I certainly do." Off came my bra. I think my tits must have been tingling, just waiting to be played with by the right boy. I wanted to go further but wanted to have some sign that he would stick around. "You will still call me, won't you?" That got his attention. "Oh, Rachel, how could you think I wouldn't?" And that really got to me. Off came my jeans and I let him take care of the panties. He showed me a condom and I felt we were off to a very good start indeed.

We did go out to the beach since it was so convenient and that was where I got to dig my toes in the sand and make out with him and come to feel that I sort of wanted to combine the two sensations. I remember once in his room, very innocently and playfully, putting my toes to his mouth but he just turned his head. He didn't acknowledge it or anything. Just turned his head. He really should have responded in some way. Anything would have been better than nothing, as I look back on it. I was shy and still didn't know what I was doing. He was shy too. Perhaps if he'd presented a stronger personality, that would have made up for it. Perhaps if he'd been more free with himself and more creative in bed, I wouldn't have felt like I was missing something.

I am so lucky to have been with David. We were very good for each other. With him, I became a better person and learned a lot of good things that help me out even today. I became more disciplined about my studies and took my life more seriously. Perhaps I would have done the same without him but he was the guy I did it with, the guy who helped me through a lot.

It's sad how vivid our last time together is for me. We were going to go out in support of yet another cool local band when I decided to have "the talk." I had already started to become unpleasant to be with and I know he'd gotten the hint that we were drifting.

Me: We need to talk.

Him: Oh, no, not that. Look, I know we need...I know I need to try harder.

Me: If you only knew. If you only knew how.

Him: I thought we were perfectly matched. There's no other couple as perfectly matched as the two of us.

Me: David, maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe we're too matched in some ways, the less important ways.

David: I don't want to hear anymore of this. You need time to think it over. That's all. You need time. More time. You need more time.

I remember he made a point of cutting the night short. He was so sure that if only I had more time to think. But I didn't need one more second to think and I didn't take it. We hugged but I refused to kiss him. And I never returned his calls. I never did anything else with him. Maybe if he'd actually given me "more time" I wouldn't have cut him off but he started calling me right away so I felt I had no other choice. Once things were set into motion, there was no turning back. I felt terrible but I also felt great relief. I never really cried over him and that made me feel bad but it turned out to help me realize how I'd made the right choice.

Labels: blogs, boyfriends, dating, first love, flip flops, foot fetish, high school, romance, sex, valentine, Valentine's Day, Writing