I’ve had one in my life the summer before my freshman year in college. I actually lost my virginity to her, although I’d had one experience a few months before. It worked out pretty well, because we were honest with each other. It was never going to be a serious relationship, and it certainly wasn’t going to last past my leaving for college. For one thing, I was 19 and she was 25. For another, she made no secret of about the number of men in her life. I was still sad when the day came to part, but not for long, because after Angie called it off, we celebrated by consumating the divorce. Ahhh, memories.
I have trouble thinking of Angie as a fuck buddy, though. She was more like my port in a storm. See, back then my home life wasn’t good. In fact it was pretty fucking awful. My mom was having nervous breakdowns, and I hardly saw my dad, because he was away on business trying not to get fired, and when I did see him, the arguments were pretty severe, even ending in a fist fight one evening. I didn’t get along with my siblings, and really, everyone hated everyone else by the time college rolled around (I was not one of those kids who cried away his first night in the dorm room.). Angie and I had sex often and well, but evenings with Angie were often as much about a quiet game of Uno or sacking out on the couch watching a movie on HBO as they were about fucking each others brains out. I’d bring over food from the restaurant I was working at, and we’d have a nice, peaceful, warm meal together. Angie was a quiet, stable, genuinely caring and concerned friend away from the mental illness and anger and screaming and tears. I really didn’t care if the apartment was kind of small and dingey or if there were nights I couldn’t come over because she had another “friend” coming over (I’d always volunteer to work late at the restaurant those nights.). Angie was wonderful, and I still remember how at peace and . . . safe . . . I felt in the living room or dozing beside her on the bed.
It turned out OK, as I’ve said. We parted as we both knew we had to, and I went to college, and she married some guy and went down to live in New Jersey. I’ll tell you this much: My fling with her was quite a bit better than any of the “serious” relationships I had in college; I’m afraid my emotional baggage followed me from home. It wasn’t until I was in the army, out of Pennsylvania, and on a different continent when I met a girl I liked (OK, loved) more than Angie and began to chill out in general. And I do love my wife more than Angie. I love my wife more than anything, actually.
I don’t dwell on Angie, but if she ever showed up on my door, she would get the guest room, free meals, and whatever else I could help her with, no questions asked–after I explained everything to Mrs. Fresh, of course. Most of my other girlfriends would get invited to fuck off my porch and maybe a restraining order to boot. So absolutely no regrets with Angie.
And as for your last question, shit man, go for it!! I don’t care if you have to drive ten hours!! Look around you! It’s time to get it while you can.