I came to a weird realization the other day. I had a friend, and our relationship was weird.
When I was eight until I was eighteen, I went to a summer camp for kids with physical disabilities. It was magical. I made some lifelong friends there, but maybe I'll talk about that another time.
Some of the staff members were former campers. They'd come back and we'd all be excited that somebody like us was here. Sometimes we looked up to them. When I was sixteen or seventeen, I met D.
D was disabled as well, and he was a summer staff. I didn't talk to him much, but he did introduce himself and ask if he could add me on Facebook.
When I got back from camp, I added him. Teen LL was full of angst, sexual frustration and general loneliness that came with not fitting in. I lived in a rural community and as a disabled person, I didn't go out much. My friends were purely circumstantial and I couldn't get from Point A to Point B very well. So, a lot of my time was spent on the Internet, talking to D. He understood my feelings very well.
Talking to a grown person who also had a disability was great. D understood my strained relationship with my parents, how alone I felt in my high school and mostly, how my disability could make me feel shitty about boys and sex. For the most part, my confidence was pretty good, but I spent a lot of nights wondering if a guy would ever sleep with me. In high school, boys didn't really see me as more than a friend. People assumed I didn't have interest in sex or wasn't able to take part. The disabled are often robbed of our sexuality. But anyway, D and I started talking about sex.
I was pretty naive back than, and I had a lot of questions. I'd ask about orgasms and oral, and penetrative sex. Usually or conversations were informative and helpful. But on occasion, I'd have venting sessions where I would confess that even though I knew I was worth it, no guy would want the disabled girl, and I'd never know what being eaten out would feel like or whatever. He's a good seven years older than me, but that flew over my head. He'd say that he would love to do [sex thing] If he lived a bit closer. Sometimes he'd comment on my boobs. It always made me feel a weird combination of excitement and revulsion. I liked that he thought I was hot, but I was not interested in him.
We talked for a few years, and sometimes it got a flirty, and I'd cut it short. When I got into college, he'd express his desire to visit. At first I thought it might be fun. As time went on I didn't like the idea. I figured he'd put the moves on me, and fuck no, buddy.
We stopped talking in the last year and a half. I don't really respect him anymore. I realized how even though he taught me so much, he never really respected me. Hitting on me, even at a young age and turning our conversations sexual even when he knew I didn't like him.
Boy, this was fucking long.