This is the story of my first boyfriend. Before you walk away, exasperated - wait. This isn’t just any story. This is my story.
I grew up in an extremely isolated and sheltered environment. Not only was I homeschooled (and only socialized with a handful of kids in my tiny hometown), but we didn't go to any church regularly, which could have been a social opportunity. We went to many different churches sporadically, none for very long. My mother would eventually discover something they were doing that she disagreed with, and we would stop going. I learned at a very early age not to get attached to (or become close friends with) the kids I met at these churches, because I never knew if we would go back.
I was never truly outside of my home environment. The summer after I turned seventeen, I got a job at a “big box” store in Kearney, Nebraska (This fact – this town – is true. All other names in my story have been changed to protect bystanders). I had my license for a few months, and it was a nice forty mile drive one way. I started driving our family's only mode of transportation – an ever so stylish Oldsmobile Silhouette minivan. I enjoyed a freedom I had never experienced before. It was absolutely liberating. We were not allowed to listen to “secular” music – only the local Christian radio station. And I remember deliberately setting the radio station in the van to the local pop station, and leave the volume up when I turned off the car. My dad would get so mad when he turned the key. It was just a little rebellion.
I started working as a cashier sometime in May. Of course, I noticed a boy. His name was Ben. He was nineteen, he smoked cigarettes, had more than one tattoo, and was a general all-around badass. At least to me. Of course, the situation being years behind me now, I do see it a little differently. He drank, he smoked weed, and he had a cool car (a ’70-something Maverick.) His perceived maturity was very attractive. Everything a young girl is looking for, right? In reality, I was a very innocent girl, with no exposure to the real world. I hadn't been given the opportunity to learn wisdom.
Sometime in early June, after we had spent some time together on our breaks and had had several conversations, he asked me to be his girl. We were standing in the hall near the lockers. I don't think we were sharing a locker at that point. (Being homeschooled, it was my first locker. And I remember being pretty thrilled about it at the time.) I said yes. It wasn't an option for me to say no.
No boy had ever asked me to be his girl. I was not about to close the door on that. Part of me knew he was bad news. I know even at that time I didn’t see a serious future with him. But I was not saying no. I did not want to miss out on that experience. So I was not about to miss the opportunity to see where it went. Not saying yes wasn't even an option for me.
I realize this sounds a bit ridiculous from an adult standpoint. You have to understand though, in my world, boys were taboo. I think that’s why they were mysterious and fascinating to me. But I was not allowed to talk to them. If I was caught even looking at a random boy, my whole family would say he was immediately my “boyfriend” and/or we were getting married. It was a group event – my siblings egged on and encouraged by my mother. It was a completely ludicrous form of reverse shaming.
Well, when I said yes to him, he leaned over (he was so much taller than me) and kissed me on my cheek. I remember his stubble grating against my face. It was my first kiss. And I liked it.
Now the problem: I was not allowed to have a boyfriend. Period. I had barely been allowed to get the job. I considered my life: I was driving our only vehicle, to a city forty miles away, and I was gone over 40 hours a week. There was no way they would find out. So I just didn't tell anyone. Our coworkers knew we were a couple, but that didn't really matter. We were normal to them.
We spent time together as we could. Sometimes, he'd come to work early to see me. And I started lying to my parents about my work schedule, so I could drive in early to see him.
We only went on one actual real date. We went to a Dairy Queen, and shared a frozen lemonade. I took him to a Bible study on a Wednesday night, and afterwards, the people from the church I was attending at the time, prayed for him. I took him to church with me one or two times also. It was the same church that my family had been going to, so I’m not sure why I would have done so. But I think I told them he was one of my coworkers, and then gave him strict instructions not to touch me affectionately.
He worked as a house painter after he got fired. I started driving to his house on my lunch break. I only got one hour, so I would speed all the way from the North side of Kearney to the South side, past the library a couple blocks, and a quick right turn, and then a few blocks West. It was stressful. I’ve always been very punctual, and this time in my life was no exception. I recorded in my journal how late I was in returning from my lunches. Most of the time it wasn’t more than a few minutes, but I still hated it. One time I actually tapped the bumper of the car in front of me at the very last stoplight before his house. Thank goodness they did not stop or I would have been busted.
The only thing we really ever did was just hang out in his room. On my lunch break, I'd usually bring him food and a Mountain Dew, or these peach-flavored drinks we both loved. I know he might have been high some of the time. I don't think I was fully aware of this back then. I was extremely naïve for being seventeen. (Thanks to the homeschooling and isolation.) I'm sure he offered it, but I never accepted. His best friend Alex was there sometimes. I liked Alex. They would tease me about not doing smoking or drinking, but I never did. For me it wasn’t that hard to say no; I’ve apparently always been interested in having total control of my faculties. They both wore horrible ugly bucket hats. I was really into Tweety Bird at the time and Ben gave me a Tweety Bird bucket hat. It’s so hideous, but I think I still have it.
He lived with his sweet white-haired Grandma. He had a room upstairs, which connected to a tiny kitchen nearby. She was always a sweetheart to me. I remember one afternoon, he was sitting in a soft blue recliner in his grandma’s living room and I was sitting on his lap. He was so bony, there was plenty of room. We were talking to her about when we were getting married. He wanted to get married on Halloween. I don’t remember having any objections to this, so the plan was set – marriage on Halloween. (At that point, we had been dating for maybe a month.) I also met his sister and his mom, and his dad. His Grandma was in the hospital one time, and we went to see her. I was there at the hospital in Kearney, visiting his grandma, with his whole family. It’s so surreal when I think about it.
One evening, the three of us took Ben’s car and drove over to his ex-girlfriend's house. She had a baby in a high chair. And her boyfriend was old enough to buy beer. So Alex and her boyfriend left to get some while Ben and I stayed. (I think that’s the only other time I might have gotten caught, if the boyfriend had been busted buying beer for a minor. Because I had left my backpack in his car.) Then the three of us went back to Ben's room and they drank beers while we listened to Kid Rock.
I remember we kissed a lot. He wasn’t a good kisser. But of course I didn’t think that at the time, since he was my first. He always tasted like cigarette smoke, but I wasn't averse to it. We never had sex. He never attempted to have sex with me. Which, of course, was good. And it really wasn't part of the equation for me. I didn’t know anything about sex. Although it kind of makes sense when I found out what happened in his life directly before and after his time with me.
Which brings me to the beginning of the end...
Ben struggled with depression. Even before he was fired, I would spend hours coaxing him through his bad spells, encouraging him as well as I could. He threatened suicide more than once. I did what I could with my very limited knowledge. He never told me all of him. All of his stories. We were together for roughly two months, and most of those moments were stolen when I could take my lunch or go to his house after work.
All this time, I was still keeping up the facade at home. My family knew nothing about him, except that he was my coworker. One time, our whole family went to the store. I remember telling him that he had to “act natural” or something similar; it worked and they didn’t know that he and I were anything more than friends.
One night, he was very depressed. He was being very dramatic, and climbed up onto his Grandma's roof. In retrospect, don't think he was ever going to jump. But you have to understand: I was a very naive little girl. I was seventeen, but I may as well have been twelve. I had no experience with anything like this, and I took it completely at face value. My isolated life had left me no examples or experiences to deal with his manipulative behavior. I had never been exposed to anyone so unlike myself. I stayed. I stayed for hours. I talked to him. And eventually he climbed down. I finally left. It was very late.
I arrived home sometime after midnight, to discover that my mom had called the police and my dad had gone out in his truck to look for me on the highway. (Remember, this was the grand year of 2000. The common use of cell phones was only right around the corner.) They had called my job and discovered the truth. I was busted. But I didn't talk. I told them I had to make one phone call and then I would talk. I called him the next day and asked him to come to my parent's house.
He couldn't come that day, only the following day. Like a loser. So I spent the day in silence.
In the early afternoon of a warm Sunday in early August, his car rolled up. I was sitting on the front porch, waiting. I ran out to him, and leaned into the car. We shared a quick peck of a kiss, and then walked into my parents’ house, holding hands.
I said, "This is my boyfriend, Ben."
As soon as my mother saw us walking in together, our hands intertwined, she violently hit our hands apart, growling viciously, "Get your hands off my daughter!”
They made us sit on different couches, and grilled us about almost everything. I say almost everything because I know they never asked if we had sex. You would think that would be the first thing you ask.
I don't remember much from those moments or the aftermath. They are swallowed up in my grief.
At the end of the conversation, Ben was forbidden to contact me until I turned eighteen. As I walked him to his car, we managed to sneak a quick, heartbreaking kiss, and he was gone.
I remember sitting on the swing on the front porch, hot, burning tears of silent anguish running down my face and neck. He had brought me a giant stuffed alien he won at the county fair. I gripped it tightly to my chest like it was a life vest. I had never been so devastated. People talk about closure. They talk about how important it is. It is, especially when you don't have any control of what's ripped out of your life. It takes a very long time to recover.
The following day, my dad went to my job and told my boss that he would not see me again.
~ Epilogue ~
Repercussions continued for months. I was not allowed to go anywhere (even to the mailbox, which was only half a block away) without one of my siblings with me. I was in an invisible prison. I fell into a deep depression. I started drinking Mountain Dew. A lot. Some days, I would drink an entire twelve-pack in a day. It was the only "drug" I could get my hands on. It numbed me. It was a very bad time in my life.
Over the next few months, got over him, slowly, painfully. He called a few times, but I was never allowed to talk to him. My dad talked to him. I started going to a different church; joined the youth group, the drama team, and I made some new friends.
I found out he had been in jail before we started dating, for statutory rape. When my eighteenth birthday rolled around, he was again in jail for a second statutory rape charge. Because my mother was afraid he would come after me, she shipped me off to a Bible college in Ohio. I think she had an image of him built up in her mind that was far from the truth. I was never afraid of him.
I saw Ben once after my parents split us up. Our family was stopped at a gas station in Kearney, and he was there. My dad and my brothers talked to him like they were old friends. I wasn’t allowed to get out of the van. I never saw him again.
