Every Time I Tried a One-Night Stand, They Wouldn't Go Away

But they're all still a part of me

This was originally published on Medium in August, 2024. It’s my most viewed and read piece by over 2,000, but originally flopped and barely earned me a dime since the content wasn’t approved. It ended up finding its audience on its own somewhere out there and kept being shared and spread around… and that’s even better. We need more stories from women who don’t apologize for their sexuality. And we need more readers unafraid to support them. Love you all x

college me

I entered college a bit behind in the belt notch department. I wasn’t lacking in experience; I’d been letting boys do stuff since the 6th grade. My first kiss was behind the lake house in front of the whole class on the last day of school. It was a dare, and I don’t turn those down.

Todd was the sweetest boy — blonde hair, broad shoulders and taller than any 6th grader needed to be. Very cute; a little dumb. I told him I was going to see Oklahoma because my friend was in it and he asked me when I’d be back from my trip.

I guess the kiss meant we were together now and he called me all summer long. It was sweet, and then like most sweet things that linger for too long, it got sticky. I broke his little heart.

I just wanted a kiss, Todd.

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I used to lie about my age because I could. I was 13 and telling this 18 year old boy I was 17 at the beach one summer. His name was DJ and he tasted like Camel Lights and danger. He was tan and tall with long messy blonde hair and was thinner than any 18 year old should be. He was a surfer. We spent days and days in the sand rubbing our jorts together. He stole me a puka shell necklace from Wings and put a fake tattoo of a whale on my right ankle with his tongue.

We made out on the downstairs porch swing while everyone else was upstairs. He took me to third base that night.

He would call the beach house in the middle of the night and wake everyone up, begging to hear my voice. He would come over and ask me out even after my drunk father cornered him on the porch and threatened to knock him out.

It was intense and then like most intense things, it lost its momentum. I told him I’d write and I didn’t. The next summer he was gone.

I just wanted some under the jorts action, DJ.

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I ‘dated’ so many different kinds of boys in school. Some of them just wanted to hold my hand all day and write me letters. Some were daring enough to walk around with their hand in my back pocket. Some wiggled their tongues around in my mouth during Addams Family Values. Some made me mixtapes of Duran Duran and Aerosmith. Some sat in the back of Titanic six and a half times with their hand under my bra.

Boys would give me gifts even if we hadn’t had a conversation. I got a gold and bronze braided ring on bended knee outside the auditorium. A hand welded copper bracelet delivered to my front door. A silver heart ring on the school bus.

I still have every piece in my jewelry box.

There was just something about me that turned everything serious before it even began, and I didn’t know what to do with any of it except say thank you and goodbye as quickly as possible.

Through most of high school and some of middle school, I dated the same boy. His name shall not be mentioned so we’ll be kind and call him Dick. Dick was a very controlling, jealous and insecure devout baptist, and sex wasn’t on the table. I let that relationship go on far too long and couldn’t wait to escape to college. He still called and wrote to me that first semester, but I ignored it all.

So by the time I got to college, I was ready to get loose again. Things had been too serious and still for far too long and I needed to start steering my ship. I made out with every guitar player that played me “Imagine” or told me I sounded like Joni Mitchell. I met a professional senior at a hurricane party and for weeks he would call and sing me “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”.

I stopped returning his calls.

I met a kind, curly haired senior in the communications department with the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. He called my dorm room at 2 a.m. the night before our first date to tell me he was so excited and that I was the one.

I never called him back.

I grew a wild hair one night at the bar where the freshman could drink, and I asked a boy to come home with me. I’d had enough lemon drops to make it real easy and slipped into the booth next to him, put my hand on his thigh and looked him right in the eye. I’d never done that before but I wanted to see how it felt to be the aggressor. It was surprisingly easy.

His name was Chris. Or Chad. Or Cooth. I don’t know, I was drunk. But he was in my acting class and I thought he was cute. He had that innocent boy thing going on that ignited my desire to hunt.

We slept together that night and I broke his heart the next day while still wearing his starched blue button down. He drove away in tears.

I just wanted one night, Cooth.

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A boy who had a crush on me for months left me his favorite sweatshirt with a love note and some flowers on my front porch. I’d gone home for winter break but my cousin found it and called to read it to me. I never was attracted to this guy and never thought once about dating him. But I was so in love with how much he loved me and the grand gesture, that I convinced myself that I liked him back. We got to know each other over the phone during the holidays and that bled into a full blown relationship.

I met his family pretty early on and they quickly got attached. His sister shared her makeup with me, his mom called me every other day, his dad asked me to play that Shawn Mullins song over and over again on my guitar and his little sister drew me pictures of us holding hands.

We dated for months, maybe even a year, before I broke his heart and sent him home crying so hard his shoulders were shaking. His mom called me the next day to cry about never seeing me again. I gave him back his sweatshirt, but I still have that love letter.

I’m so sorry, Joe.

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I never meant to hurt anyone during all my tests and self discoveries and wild hairs. I just wanted to figure out what I liked and who I was. Everyone else was doing it; why couldn’t I?

But none of it ever stayed casual. I never had a casual anything in my entire life and I still can’t figure out if that’s something to be proud of, or work on. I’ve always dreamt of being easier and lighter. But I just don’t think I’m meant to.

People flock to me when they have things they need to work on, or release. They always have. I can’t go to the grocery store without someone coming up to me as if by magnetic force to open up about their divorce or childhood trauma.

It’s a big reason why leaving the house is so exhausting, and why someone else usually does the quick errands. I would be gone for 3 hours because some man needed to cry it out by the cucumbers.

When I look back on my life and experiences with all of these people, I look at it all with sweet fondness. I don’t have any regrets. I know I hurt a lot of people by not being ‘their one’, but that’s not something they get to decide for me.

Through all of those quick affairs and one-night stands and first dates that ended before they began, I was always myself. Even when I was different than I was the day before, I was still me.

I am a whole lot of different things all at once and I think it’s because I’ve been through so many things in life. I have never been afraid to do something, see something, feel something. And I wear all of my experiences — my pain and my love — on my sleeve for everyone to see.

I wear yours too. Every time someone shares something with me, it stays with me. Every time someone gives me something with their heart, it stays with me. Like a beautiful mosaic that’s only beautiful because of all the jagged edges of heartache I never threw away, but held onto and melded together to make it all make sense.

And I think people find safety in that. I think people see that I can take on their pain and worries and spin something out of it. Or at least just relieve them of the weight.

I hope all of these people can look back on my time with them and smile like I can. I hope I taught them something about themselves like they did for me. I hope they’re all happy.

And I hope I’m still a part of their story like they are mine.