“Fuck it. Hot mouths wrestle over the middle console in my dingy Mercury Sable. It’s probably close to 11 now and for the last hour we have told story after story of how fucked our current relationships are. It has taken him this long to tell me that he’s always wondered what I looked like naked. When he tells me I am thankful it is dark because when I blush I look more like a burn victim than a becoming young lady. I sit back in the driver’s seat—I’ve always preferred to drive but my boyfriend hates it because he’s a control freak; I consider what will happen if I take off my shirt. I consider that this is something I will never tell my boyfriend. I consider that I can probably never tell any of my 2 friends about this because they are judgmental cunts and would totally flip. I consider that I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who has done worse things to me than this, but still, a boyfriend. I consider that the beautiful, face like a freaking German god that speaks 3 languages and knows how charming he is, has a girlfriend who is more bitch than she is actually a person, but still, a girlfriend. I consider that I will probably never see this boy again. I consider that he wants me. I consider that he is actually considering me and potentially wants me. Being considerate is fucking work.
So I take off my top. So I take off my bra. I am 17 and topless at 11 o’clock at night sitting next to a German exchange student in a corn field planted along the side of some back road. Occasionally a car goes by and when it does I lean my chair back far enough so that no one can see my tiny apple sized breasts. Minutes go by and he doesn’t say anything. I’m freaking out because I’m half fucking naked and he’s just looking at me like, I don’t even know because I can’t fucking look at him while he’s looking at me while I’m half naked. It’s not decent. I’m about to say something snarky and funny, but my face freezes in a crooked kind of questioning smile. His eyes are soft and sincere as he leans in and kisses me. A small kiss, but he pulls away only so far as to see my eyes “You are so beautiful” he whispers. I would have honestly slept with him that night if I wasn’t so afraid that he would see my Costco sized tampon box lying in my back seat. I consider now that my actions were inappropriate and forward and blah blah blah. But I also consider that the relationship I was in at the time was oppressive, abusive, and almost worst of all, stiflingly normal. I consider that even though it was just that one evening, that someone saw me bare and vulnerable, had every chance to say something hurtful and disgusting, but instead looked at me and called me beautiful. I consider that the person that I was is so much better because I broke the rules and realized that I was worth considering. I am more considerate to myself because of this moment. When I visit those back roads and pass by that corn field, I smile and remember the feeling of being hungry for something beautiful.”
