How I Met My Husband, When I Was Twelve

I was twelve when I slid down the banister at church and got a large splinter in thick of one of my lips. It hurt, and it was embarrassing, and neither of my friends I was with were able to get the splinter out. One of them had an older brother who had been a Medic in the Army when he was stationed in Korea. I had to get down on my elbows, with my pants down, and on my knees for him to find the splinter and pull it out. He used the tweezers from the nail kit I had gotten for Christmas that year. He rubbed salve on me, taking care not to get his finger in my vagina, although I wished he did.

This became the biggest secret of my life. He knew, I knew, and my friends knew. And no one spoke. As I went through my puberty years, and later as a teen in high school I was always and forever meant for him. He had already gone to college when I had my incident, and he was working on becoming an EMT. To be an EMT you also had to be a member of the Fire Department. So bottom line I was fifteen and dating a fireman.

After I got married, after I had finished high school, I lay there and let him examine me, to see if there was any scar from the splinter. He told me there was, but I couldn't see. So I had to take his word for it, and let him check on me every now and then.