First-Date Kisses and Counseling

When I started dating Latin Muslim, the cute Puerto Rican from the train, I didn't give much thought to his criminal past or his drug-addicted present.

I was sufficiently naive and sufficiently nonjudgmental and sufficiently optimistic to believe that he wasn't his rap sheet.

I judged him on how he acted and on how he treated me.

His kisses got an A-. His neediness got a C+.

It was immediately obvious to me that Latin Muslim and I shared several personality traits: stubbornness, unwavering persistence and perseverance, and a tendency to rush headlong into any situation as long as it felt right emotionally.

We met on the New Haven Green at 10:30 a.m., a few days after our chance encounter on the train.

The morning was magical. All the things I'd ever dreamed of doing with a boy that I'd never done because I'd never had a boyfriend.

We walked around New Haven. Stopping to sit on the steps of a university building, where he leaned toward me and kissed me lightly on the mouth ... twice. Then more hand-in-hand strolling, until we paused by the gate of a Secret Society tomb for more kisses. He raised my temperature by running his tongue along the outside of my lips. He sucked on my neck and gave me my first-ever hickey.

And he took a gold chain from around his own neck and put it around mine. A symbol of ownership.

He told me that he had never associated with a "nice, college-attending" girl like me and that he felt feelings for me he'd never felt before. And that he would never take advantage of me. And he wanted our relationship to work out.

My body was melting, my heart was aglow, but my mind was suspicious, distrustful, unsettled, unsure.

I was both attracted and repulsed by him, by his unbelievable persistence.

He was like an earnest little boy, telling me how much I meant to him ... on our first date.

After a few hours, I drove him back to the inpatient rehab facility where he was being treated for a cocaine addiction.

Around 5 p.m., he summoned me to return. He absolutely wouldn't take no for an answer.

So our first date resumed in a most unusual way: in a family-counseling session at a rehab facility.

He and I and a therapist talked about "the relationship" and I had a breakthrough.

I realized that we couldn't put each other on a pedestal, that I couldn't be his fantasy of the good girl who would be good for him and that he couldn't be the fabled strong man who would solve all my problems.

That said, I was more than willing to give the relationship a try. With Latin Muslim, I felt whole.

(Virginity Diaries Part 4 of 11: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 Lessons Learned 1 2 3)