“She said I don’t know if I’ve ever been good enough
I’m a little bit rusty
And I think my head is caving in
And I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved
By a hand that’s touched me
Well, I feel like something’s gonna give
And I’m a little bit angry…”
-Matchbox 20

For awhile during the summer of 1997, the song “Push” by Matchbox 20 was my anthem. The lyrics I quoted above resonated with me on a deep level. I had moved on from some of the stuff that I’d been through, but somehow, I had been kind of drifting from one bad relationship to another, and even though I had developed feelings on some level for the guys I had been involved with, I never truly felt that it was reciprocated in the way that the ideological girl that I was then wanted it to be, dreamed it would be.

Because I tend to overthink things, in my head, I broke down the many levels of the whole sex thing. You can feel free to disagree with me if you want, but in my thinking, it was a little something like this – there was making love, having sex, getting fucked, or being forced. And though I had some experience with the latter three, it was later in my life that I ever got to experience the first.

And this morning it’s on my mind – how I still believe there’s a difference, even after all these years. That my musings as a twenty-year-old aren’t too far off from my thirty-one year old thoughts.