Chapter 2. My Boyfriends

By Evelyn I

lost my virginity almost on a whim. I had a crush on a guy who was quite a bit older than me; I was 16 at the time and he was 22. He didn’t pay much attention to me, but he couldn’t take his eyes off my friend Isa—until I approached him and told him straight out that I liked him. He didn’t waste any time; we went to a hotel, and almost without fanfare, I lost my virginity.

It wasn’t romantic—there was no date involved, no dinner, no “I really like you.” Nothing.

He wasn’t affectionate; I think he slept with me just because I told him I liked him. He didn’t ask me out or anything—it all ended right there, where it began, in a hotel bed.

I was pretty disappointed.

A few days later, Isa and I were walking together—she knew I’d slept with him.

We ran into him on the street with a girl on his arm.

He had a girlfriend.

The girl with him was older—or at least she looked that way. Not old, but I was 16, and that girl seemed to be his age—meaning around 22.

He didn’t look at us—not at me or at Isa.

I’m sure he saw us, because at one point our eyes met and he looked away.

I got home in tears; at that moment, I thought I loved him. However, I had to see him with her to realize that this man wasn’t worth it—neither for me nor for his poor girlfriend, who was being cheated on, because I’m sure I wasn’t the only girl he’d slept with.

Little by little, I got him out of my head; it wasn’t that hard, either.

I quickly got excited about another guy; we dated for a month, but we didn’t have sex—he was too shy, and of course I didn’t tell him I wasn’t a virgin anymore. He was a guy I’d always travel with when we went to school, even though he went to a different school that was close to mine.

He was my age; we were just kids.

On one of those sneaky outings—you know, when our parents thought we were at school but we’d actually go for a walk or spend the afternoon at a McDonald’s, which was always packed with teenagers—I met a guy I really liked; I fell head over heels for him the moment I saw him.

Luckily, Isa had a boyfriend at the time; his name was Sergio, and even though she wasn’t very much in love with him—they’d been dating for three months by then—he was the second guy in her life. The first one, of course, we both liked, but she’d been totally smitten the moment she saw him, so I didn’t interfere in that relationship—I didn’t flirt with him or anything. He was a friend, and over time he became a very good friend of mine—that’s all.

That day when I met Rodrigo, the two of us were hanging out with some other classmates from our division, with whom we’d decided not to go to school.

One of the guys knew him because they played volleyball together at a club.

Rodrigo was with some friends of his, and they joined our group.

That very afternoon we started going out; we saw each other the following Friday and again on Saturday.

On one night out when our groups met up at a different club—not the one we usually go to, but the one we go to every now and then—my sister came along, and I introduced her to him. I think my sister came just to meet him, because I couldn’t stop talking about him.

I was 17 at the time, and so was Rodri.

I fell madly in love with him.

I talked about him, I dreamed about him—we were both deeply in love.

Of course, he was my second boyfriend.

Even though Rodrigo had quite a bit of experience, it bothered him that I wasn’t a virgin, and every now and then he would hold it against me.

One day, after we’d been dating for three months, he told me he’d been with another girl, that he regretted it, but that if he was going to forgive me for having been with someone else before, I’d have to do the same—forgive him.

It was different, because when I was with that guy, I didn’t know Rodrigo, and he’d left me for someone else.

Anyway, I forgave him and never brought it up again, even though he’d occasionally hold it against me that I wasn’t a virgin when I met him.

It had been stupid of me to give myself to someone who didn’t even care about me, but it was something I couldn’t change.

Rodrigo came into my house as my boyfriend, and I went into his as his girlfriend.

But then I found out he’d been with a girl, and we’d already been dating for 10 months. I forgave him, but we started drifting apart; we didn’t get along, and we argued about everything.

By summer, we barely saw each other, and the day he came back from vacation, he stopped by to say hi—we ended up arguing, and that fight was the final straw.

I really did cry over him—a lot.

Anyway, three weeks later, I found myself back at the nightclub we both loved so much.

Then I started dating a guy from a group of friends we had in the neighborhood—the ones we’d sometimes go dancing with.

We didn’t date for very long; I was about to turn 18, and he was 19 or 20.

I slept with him twice, but I never really felt comfortable with him.

We didn’t date for very long either—about three months.

Now I’m with Omar.

I had a really great time.

Omar was a very handsome guy.

Blond, with slightly wavy hair and green eyes; he had a very handsome face. He wasn’t very tall—he was about 1.72—

but he was slim and had a great body.

He was very friendly, cheeky, and charismatic.

We started dating, but we didn’t see each other very often—twice a week, sometimes three times.

The third or fourth time we had sex, he told me he wouldn’t trade me for any other woman, except that he’d also like to be with my friend Isa.

He confessed that he liked her, too.

The never-ending rivalry seemed to have no end.

Of course, I didn’t say anything to her, but she was capable of starting to date him—even though he was my boyfriend.

That created a bit of a rift between Omar and me.

Omar made it very clear to me that he also liked my friend Isa, but that didn’t mean he wanted to end things with me.

No guy had ever suggested to me that he wanted to be with both of us, nor did he clarify whether he wanted to date both of us or have a threesome.

I didn’t say anything to either of them.

I went on vacation for a few days with my sister and two of her friends.

Since I was already 18, we could go dancing without anyone giving us a hard time about my age, although we only went dancing once—we spent most of our time on the beach sunbathing.

We walked along the main street of the beach town and along the seashore.

My sister really missed her boyfriend.

I didn’t understand how she could keep seeing that guy.

I missed Omar a little—it’s not like I was dying without him.

He had gone to Punta del Este with some friends; I think there was Liam, Sergio, and a guy named Benicio whom I didn’t know.

We talked every now and then; we’d send each other videos of the beaches where we were, but we were each having fun with our own friends.

I wasn’t very sure about my relationship with my boyfriend; I figured that one night, he’d end up in some girl’s arms.

Something told me that our relationship wasn’t very solid.

We hadn’t been together that long, either.

I didn’t feel jealous or anything like that, but we were both young and apart, and if his friends were out there looking for sex, I’m sure Omar wasn’t going to fall asleep thinking about me.

I’d accepted that—when we both got back from our vacations, we’d see how things stood between us. I don’t actually know if he felt the same way, but I certainly did.

I’d been dating Omar for four months; summer was already over. I’d started studying at the teacher-training college, we were seeing my friends less often, and each of us was getting to know new people—people we’d met where we were studying.

We’d meet up sporadically to chat, go out for a drink, or sometimes go dancing.

In addition to the teacher training program I was taking in the late evenings, I worked in the morning in the accounting department of a small company near my house.

In the afternoons, until it was time for class, I helped my mother, as always.

My mother owned a perfume shop.

It was located in a fairly busy shopping center.

I placed the orders and kept track of inventory and the expiration dates of certain products.

I made sure to get all the latest products, both in terms of makeup and skin care creams.

It was a very feminine line of work and, in my opinion, a lot of fun.

I treated it like a job; even though I didn’t have a strict schedule, I went every day, and if I’d already placed the orders, I’d also help serve customers.

My sister would also stop by the perfume shop when she had free time; she was already working as a math teacher and had taken on several classes at different schools.

The three of us loved the perfume shop; we knew all the makeup techniques. I, in particular, had taken several cosmetology courses to understand the various effects of each type of makeup.

I got along pretty well with my mother, even though she was quite strict about several things I didn’t agree with—because they didn’t suit me.

I spent quite a few hours at the shop throughout my teenage years; as a girl, I loved serving the customers who came to shop—it was like playing shopkeeper.