Same Line, Different Choices

Hey Mom. I never told you this before, but…I almost slept with my teacher. Listen, I know this event is perplexing and unethical. But to be fair, I was a consenting adult. At the time, I had no reason to deny this man’s affections. I was a lonely, sad, and desperate high school girl that didn’t like the selection of “men” my age, or even around my age. Before I continue, I just want to say that I’ve learned from this experience and all I’m asking right now is for your understanding.

I won’t tell you which teacher these events happened with, but he was my favorite one – sorry if that sounds weird. He was wise, sweet, caring, thoughtful…and unmarried. He was a bachelor looking for love and I was a desperate teen willing to give it. At the time, I figured that our type of relationship was possible even though I knew that you, and most adults, would disapprove. I didn’t tell you this because I knew that you wouldn’t approve. Deep down, I knew that I wanted this for myself. I wanted to experience a time in my life where I was loved and cared for - nurtured, I supposed – by a man that was older than me. I wanted someone that I called mature enough to know what he’s doing. If you’ve made it this far then thank you for reading. Let’s continue…

I started realizing that I liked older men when I was a freshman. Over time, I became fascinated with men that were at least 10 years older than me. I hated the thought of being attracted to possible pedophiles, creepos, or narcissistic people that wanted easy prey, or anything else that you warned me about. I made sure to thoroughly select my future partners. Because, overall, I knew that I wanted 2 things: 1. To be with a partner that loved me, and 2. To make you proud. By the time my teacher and I went on our first date, I figured that I already failed one of those things.

This man wasn’t weird, not to me. He was polite, compassionate, thoughtful, and he responded well to my feelings and my comfort level. Men my age simply didn’t do that. I was able to actually communicate with a man and he looked me in the eyes while we talked. After a while, he was able to be honest with me about his desires. He told me about his ambitions, his memories, and he told me his 5-year plan – most guys my age just want to eat pizza with the guys or go for the next video game. No offense to growing guys. I’m just not interested in those types of people. If there was anything strange about him – other than him being my teacher – it’s that he closed off his heart if he was hurt.

By now, you’re probably calling me an “idiot” or a “silly girl” – or better yet, a “dumbass” – but it’s the truth, Mom. I actually loved this guy. He was everything that I wanted in a man and more. I won’t give you specifics, though I will say that he told me marriage was in his future. He wanted to be with someone intelligent, ambitious, cunning, and emotionally available. I asked him once, “What made me different from people his own age?” He playfully replied, “Those women are not you.” Then he earnestly answered with, “Because I can’t stand the immaturity of people my own age.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought, “Being with an eighteen-year-old isn’t really much different.” Then, I thought about myself, my philosophies, my dreams and goals, and I realized that I was different from people my own age, too.

So, you might be asking yourself, “Why is she bringing this up to me?” Because, Mom, I realized that I was following in your footsteps. My aunt told me the stories of you falling in love with your college professor when you were twenty and he was fifty-six. She went into explicit detail about you leaving your boyfriend of three years to be with this “man who was different from others.” She told me about how you dated for two years, talked about the future, went on romantic trips, and promised to get married after you graduated. In the end, he left you for a younger woman who was seventeen and my father was the one that you ran to for emotional support. Granted, I currently don’t see myself as you. However, at the time, I saw that I was doing something that resembled you too much. After less than a year of being together, I told my teacher that he is an amazing man, but that I need to grow some more and find myself. He was saddened, deeply saddened. He understood and we parted ways.

Admittedly, I’ve never cried so hard in my life. That night, I cried on and off for three days. Natalie and I even postponed our daily chats. I just couldn’t face myself, Mom, and this entire experience helped me understand your tender heart a little bit more. My teacher was an amazing man. I wanted to give myself to him – sorry, Mom. I’m glad that I didn’t. We had many moments to do so. Something told me not to and I’m glad I listened to myself. I’m not sure what my teacher is doing now, and I honestly don’t want to know. I’m just thankful that I can be myself and know that he and I don’t hate each other or see each other in a negative light.

I’m only sharing this with you because the heaviness in my heart needed to be lifted. You might immediately call me after receiving this letter and that’s okay. I’ll answer your questions and listen to your pleas. But Mom, please just know that I don’t need you to tell me how stupid, naïve, or ridiculous I am. I’m a growing woman. I would like your respect if we do decide to talk. I would never shame you for your choices so please don’t shame me for mine.

I love you and I’ll be awaiting your phone call.

Your very anxious daughter,

Mallory