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Description
I have mentioned from time to time that I have always had low self esteem. Especially when it comes to guys. The fact that a large majority of the guy I've liked did not return my feelings has played heavily in this low self worth.

There was a time when once I finally get a guy's interest that I did whatever I could, within reason, to keep him interested.

Guys just don't fall in love with girls like me. This I learned pretty much by the time I got in high school. And when someone offered to help me "get my guy", they were treated with suspicion.

I did not have my first serious boyfriend until I was sixteen. He was older, attractive, and had the physical characteristics of my "dream lover." He called me princess and told me I was beautiful, he gave me flowers for no reason at all. And then, he wrote the sweetest letter to me. I was wooed and won over by the time we'd been going out for a month.
That was when he started expressing more of an interest in the physical aspects of our relationship. Mainly an interest in having sex. I put him off, telling him that I wanted to get to know him better, to really be in love.

Before I go further, let me give an idea of what I was told concerning sex and boys by my mother. "If you're a good girl, you don't let boys slobber all over you. Good girls don't, bad girls do." My mother was what you might call a simple, southern girl. Both her parents' and her grandparents' were old fashioned and strict. This, I think, helped shape what my mother would later try to instill in me and my sisters.

By the time we'd been going out six months, he asked me to marry him. I was young, I thought I loved him. I thought he was a catch and that I would not find anyone better. Anyone better who would want me.

It was around that time that our problems started. I turned seventeen soon after my senior year in high school started. I wanted to go out and have fun with my friends and interact with my classmates since it would be my last year to do so.

But he did not like that idea at all. His idea of how our relationship should be and my idea differed greatly, causing a great many of arguments. Some of which occurred when I should have been making memories with my friends.

At the heart of every argument was the sex issue. He gave me all the arguments in favor of us having sex. How it would bring us closer. How we were going to get married anyhow, so it didn't matter. How if I loved him then I'd do it, but when I refused I was called a tease. I admit I probably was one. I enjoyed making out and snuggling and groping, but when it came right down to it, the idea of having sex scared me. And on the few times we tried, I just could not go through with it.

On top of that, he was possessive and controlling. If I did not tell him where I was going at any time, he would go searching for me. Once when my mom and I went grocery shopping, he showed up at the store looking for me because I wasn't home when he called.

Deep down I wasn't just afraid of him, I was miserable with him, but I just couldn't let go. I knew I'd find no one better. So we continued to argue, either about my friends that he hated or the lack of sex in our relationship. This went on for months, with me promising that I just needed time.

It was after we had been together for a year that he gave me the 'ultimatum.' Either we had sex, or he would be going elsewhere for it. He had no problem with the idea of screwing someone else while he was seeing me.

Now I don't know about anyone else, but I just could not see wanting to marry someone who was off screwing God knows who. I was faced with the decision of choosing to be alone or give in to him. I liked having a boyfriend; I liked the idea of having a boyfriend.

So I gave in.

I should have demanded he take me home. I should have told him where to shove his happy self. But I didn't. I caved in and gave him power over me. He truly manipulated me.

Remember, he told me that having sex would bring us closer together? He was wrong. Everyone who had told me to wait had turned out to be right. Sex with him just made things worse. I worried every month about being pregnant, because he refused to wear condoms. During the last few months of our relationship, he was even trying to get me pregnant. Our relationship deteriorated.

I will not give the details, except to say that I eventually realized that being alone and miserable was much better than being with him and miserable.

There are a couple of lessons to be taken from all of this, I am sure. But the biggest one I learned was that if a person truly cares about you, they're not going to try to force you into doing something you don't want to do.

Description
I have mentioned from time to time that I have always had low self esteem. Especially when it comes to guys. The fact that a large majority of the guy I've liked did not return my feelings has played heavily in this low self worth.

There was a time when once I finally get a guy's interest that I did whatever I could, within reason, to keep him interested.

Guys just don't fall in love with girls like me. This I learned pretty much by the time I got in high school. And when someone offered to help me "get my guy", they were treated with suspicion.

I did not have my first serious boyfriend until I was sixteen. He was older, attractive, and had the physical characteristics of my "dream lover." He called me princess and told me I was beautiful, he gave me flowers for no reason at all. And then, he wrote the sweetest letter to me. I was wooed and won over by the time we'd been going out for a month.
That was when he started expressing more of an interest in the physical aspects of our relationship. Mainly an interest in having sex. I put him off, telling him that I wanted to get to know him better, to really be in love.

Before I go further, let me give an idea of what I was told concerning sex and boys by my mother. "If you're a good girl, you don't let boys slobber all over you. Good girls don't, bad girls do." My mother was what you might call a simple, southern girl. Both her parents' and her grandparents' were old fashioned and strict. This, I think, helped shape what my mother would later try to instill in me and my sisters.

By the time we'd been going out six months, he asked me to marry him. I was young, I thought I loved him. I thought he was a catch and that I would not find anyone better. Anyone better who would want me.

It was around that time that our problems started. I turned seventeen soon after my senior year in high school started. I wanted to go out and have fun with my friends and interact with my classmates since it would be my last year to do so.

But he did not like that idea at all. His idea of how our relationship should be and my idea differed greatly, causing a great many of arguments. Some of which occurred when I should have been making memories with my friends.

At the heart of every argument was the sex issue. He gave me all the arguments in favor of us having sex. How it would bring us closer. How we were going to get married anyhow, so it didn't matter. How if I loved him then I'd do it, but when I refused I was called a tease. I admit I probably was one. I enjoyed making out and snuggling and groping, but when it came right down to it, the idea of having sex scared me. And on the few times we tried, I just could not go through with it.

On top of that, he was possessive and controlling. If I did not tell him where I was going at any time, he would go searching for me. Once when my mom and I went grocery shopping, he showed up at the store looking for me because I wasn't home when he called.

Deep down I wasn't just afraid of him, I was miserable with him, but I just couldn't let go. I knew I'd find no one better. So we continued to argue, either about my friends that he hated or the lack of sex in our relationship. This went on for months, with me promising that I just needed time.

It was after we had been together for a year that he gave me the 'ultimatum.' Either we had sex, or he would be going elsewhere for it. He had no problem with the idea of screwing someone else while he was seeing me.

Now I don't know about anyone else, but I just could not see wanting to marry someone who was off screwing God knows who. I was faced with the decision of choosing to be alone or give in to him. I liked having a boyfriend; I liked the idea of having a boyfriend.

So I gave in.

I should have demanded he take me home. I should have told him where to shove his happy self. But I didn't. I caved in and gave him power over me. He truly manipulated me.

Remember, he told me that having sex would bring us closer together? He was wrong. Everyone who had told me to wait had turned out to be right. Sex with him just made things worse. I worried every month about being pregnant, because he refused to wear condoms. During the last few months of our relationship, he was even trying to get me pregnant. Our relationship deteriorated.

I will not give the details, except to say that I eventually realized that being alone and miserable was much better than being with him and miserable.

There are a couple of lessons to be taken from all of this, I am sure. But the biggest one I learned was that if a person truly cares about you, they're not going to try to force you into doing something you don't want to do.