Is there such a thing as a primary school sweetheart?

I think we were both nervous. It had been 10 years since we’d last seen each other, 10 years since our first kiss and our first fuck. We’d known each other since Year 4, had sat next to each other in class, caught the same school bus. Hell, we lived in the same neighbourhood, an easy bike ride for a kid.

But this was different for a few reasons. It was planned for starters; after matching on Tinder a couple of weeks earlier, we’d both indicated we were keen to catch up. The last time, from everything I could recall, was pretty amazing although I was hazy on the details due to us both having popped a pill at the time.

It was also going to be our first sober catch up – no drugs, no alcohol. In fact, it was only 9am. He’d just dropped his parents off at the airport for a weekend away. He was back living at home due to a range of circumstances so I was literally going to his house while his parents were out.

He’d been my first boyfriend in primary school, although that meant little at that age. We never held hands. Rarely spoke to each other. Like most “relationships” at that age, we communicated through our friends and it usually consisted of asking them out and then dropping them after a given period of time.

For PC and I, we had reconnected again in Year 7, when I found a handwritten love letter in the mailbox, telling me how much he still thought about me and wanted me to be his girlfriend. The next afternoon, I had arrived home from school to find him riding his bike back and forth in front of my house. We talked shyly on the front lawn until we decided we were “going out” again.

And then, every afternoon for a few weeks, he would ride by my house until I came outside and we’d sit or stand in the driveway, talking about nothing and then he would ride home. Again, we never kissed or held hands and after another random amount of time, we would “drop” each other.

When we ran into each other in November 2006, it had been six months since I had last seen him.  I had started working as a journalist, my first “real job” after uni. I was also recently single, for the first time since I was 14.

The following extract from my diary is dated 8 November 2006:

We went into town, pretty much like we always do. Went to the HR, got very drunk because I hadn’t had dinner or lunch. Went to Easts and all the people from my old work were there including PC. PC and I got talking and I was pretty drunk and looking very hot. So, we talked, and then we left for town and met PC and some of the others there.

We were talking and dancing in groups, but not really together. I heaps wanted to pash him but he didn’t seem interested. I was whinging to my friends about it so one went and spoke to PC and when he came back, he told me PC was definitely interested. Then PC came over and said why all the primary school behaviour why don’t you just talk to me. So, I said I thought he didn’t like me. He said he did and I knew he had pills in his car and I asked if he’d had one yet. He said he was thinking about it and I said I thought we should. He said OK but let’s get the first kiss out of the way first. So, we pashed upstairs at the Brewery and then went out to his car and had a pill each.

I was already pretty smashed but, after this pill kicked in, my memory of the night becomes very vague. At some point PC told me I was going home with him. I remember getting in the taxi and vaguely recall making out and him asking if I had any condoms cause he didn’t and that he hated them. I did, and told him so, but it was days after my period so we didn’t use them.

Went back to his house, it was about 4.30am and I had never been in his house. All night we kept saying how bizarre it was after all these years to have finally got together. He was nervous too. He told me he thought he wasn’t buff enough for me. Said he would be disappointing after all the muscle men I was used to. Very odd. But amazing sex. Off our heads for sure, but amazing. Great cock. Not too big, not small and not at all squishy.

Couldn’t come but that was the pill, not him. We fucked for hours. Iced water works a treat I might add. We talked a bit too. About why we couldn’t ever get it together when we were younger. And how he thought I was so cute. It was good. Had a terrible sex knot in my hair.

Ten years later, and the experience was not dissimilar, minus the drugs and alcohol. We were at his place. We were both nervous. The sex was great, his cock just like my diary recalled. The difference this time was that sobriety made it quicker, without coke to inhibit an orgasm. We spent more time talking, laying in his bed, watching 80s music videos on Rage.

Somehow, despite a decade having passed, relationships for both of us, a failed marriage for me, different jobs, different cities, different life experiences, here we were. At heart still a pair of shy kids looking for our happily 4EVA after.

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