I had my first drink when I was 13, my first smoke when I was 15. I was 18 when I lost my virginity. It was to my first boyfriend, and a wonderful guy whom I wanted to marry in the future. I am glad I didn’t.

I was the “trophy girlfriend”. I watched Game of Thrones, spoke of politics, watched cricket and football, made my own money, wore just the right clothing and make-up to every occasion, drank the strongest and cheapest of alcohol and handled it like a boss, cooked and cleaned brilliantly, got along with all his friends (at least pretended to) and also elegantly sipped on a glass of expensive wine while sitting with my legs crossed at an oh-so-fancy restaurant.

I was dating a man 7 years older to me. I had to be this way. It had to be “too good to be true”.

But when it came to creating the same magic between the sheets – I failed. I realized it was too good to be true. It felt miserable. I was the perfectionist who would never do anything inefficiently but I couldn’t do this right. At this, I lost all my confidence. Where did we lose our magic?

It wasn’t the technique or skill I had gotten wrong (you can learn those), neither was it the strength and stamina issue (they can be built). I just couldn’t feel the chemistry. A lot of things felt great, but something was never alright. And I couldn’t put my finger on it. And when I pushed myself to do better each time, I would only collapse under the pressure and fail him again.

His flamboyant expression of disappointment would kill me every day. I was a young girl who wasn’t sexually efficient. He often said: “All that glitters is not gold.” I was too ashamed to even speak with anyone about it. Later, he dumped me because of it.

It felt so unfair! I was sure it wasn’t my fault but I was ashamed at the same time. I had no defense for myself. But- I had other issues to deal with. I believe I am a presentable lady, and when someone is attracted to me, he will expect me to be exceptionally good in bed. I had wild imaginations and fantasies, but no capability to execute them. All my experience with sex was with this one guy. He told me that I was bad in bed, and it crippled me. For two whole years I believed that I was a pathetic partner to be with.

I never felt good enough for another man again. Whenever a man would show interest in me, and even if I wanted to be with him, I was nervous and would do anything to avoid him. What if I disappointed him too? I wouldn’t be able to face him.

And then one day, I met the love of my life. We spent days together, simply getting drunk on our conversations. If we found comfort anywhere, it was with each other. I was looking for a house, and he offered to help me find it. We were house-hunting together, criticizing the depth of cupboards and the width of kitchen counters. I couldn’t hold myself back-

I told him how much I liked him. He looked deep into my eyes in the balcony of an empty house and said “I’ve always loved you”. I took that house.

Everything was “perfect” again. Only on the surface. My reluctance to be intimate with him started to worry him. He wasn’t sure if it was his fault or if there was something he had done that offended me. He was patient always, but consistently confused and disappointed.

I had to rid him of these insecurities. I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him that I was not good enough and didn’t want to disappoint him. He only asked me very indignantly: “Do you trust me?”

“If you do, then give it one shot with me.” I quietly budged. I did love him after all, and sex would only make the bond stronger. He promised to not push it upon me if there was any discomfort. But what if I failed? This is not something I could do.

Despite my many misgivings and all that self-doubt, it went perfectly. There wasn’t a single second where it seemed like something was going against my will. I thought maybe I had suddenly become better. I was also beginning to wonder if it was my ex-boyfriend who was at fault back then, or if it was purely because of sexual incompatibility.

But I was in a better place now. For months, we went on like that. My happiness knew no bounds. I started to believe that it was just the difference in how I was treated in bed and that made me warm down there. I didn’t blame my ex-boyfriend for it, it was something I had let go of.

Until one day I realized something really shocking about my ex.

Perhaps it was just an off-day for me. I wasn’t feeling up to it. But just out of habit, when we were getting intimate with each other, he knew that something was not alright. He stopped and simply held me in his arms and spoke to me about a lot of other things instead. At that moment, I was enormously relieved. This would never have been the case with my ex. And that’s when it hit me:

My ex was never considerate like this. He never treated sex like a two-way street. I always had the burden of pleasing him, and I failed only because I tried too hard. He never cut me slack and never gave me a break. I was naive and I was way too young for him- but he led me to believe that he loved me because he could get sex on demand? Is that what it was?

I don’t know if I reverse engineered an explanation for what happened when I was considerably younger. But I do know this- had my ex been a little more considerate towards me, I would never have been the wreck that I was. But I have what I deserve now, and I know the difference between lust and true love.

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