Living in my own place and dating as much as I wanted didn't last nearly as long as it should have. For a while, I had freedom, options, and a rotation of awkward flirting and medium-good men. But then… there was Craig.
Let me give you some context. Craig was a long-time family friend. Ex-Marine. Also served in the Army. He had some baggage, military and otherwise. Even before his deployments, Craig had some… off energy. Not dangerous exactly. But off. Like someone who learned emotional intimacy from Reddit threads and war movies. At one point, Craig had a massive crush on my sister Marie. But Marie was too young for him when he first started showing interest, and by the time she was old enough, she was very much not single. So that never happened. Thank God. My sister Jane, however, was less diplomatic. She called him Creepy Craig and not behind his back either. Mostly because he used to message her when he was drunk. She had just turned 18. He was ten years older. You do the math.
Despite all of that, somewhere along the way, Craig started hanging out with me. I don't remember how it started. It wasn't some flirty moment or late-night text. It just… happened. One minute I was single and free, the next, Craig was at my kitchen table talking about theology and trauma recovery.
At first, we were just friends. He had stopped drinking. Stopped smoking. Wasn't doing drugs. He was going to church regularly. He was trying. And honestly? He was doing well. He was consistent. He was calm. In those early weeks, he was actually kind of great. His birthday rolled around at the end of August, and I decided to surprise him. I made a gift basket, not some Dollar Tree after thought, but a real gift basket. I'd been watching, listening, casually collecting intel. His favorite movies. His favorite snacks. His favorite drinks. Even the brand of beer he always paused over at the liquor store but didn't buy. When I gave it to him, he just stared at it. Completely stunned. He told me no one had ever done anything that thoughtful for him before. Not his family. Not friends. No one. He looked at me like I had rearranged the stars.
Later that night, we curled up on the couch and put on one of the movies from the basket. It was supposed to be chill. Comfortable. Just friends hanging out. But then his hand brushed mine. Then his knee touched mine. Then his lips found mine. One thing led to another, and suddenly we weren't just friends anymore. Somewhere between the popcorn and the second act of the movie, we started making out like it was a teenage fever dream. He pulled back for a moment, looked me in the eye, and said: "I want to thank you properly."
That's when I should've known things were about to get weird. He kissed me like I was worth something. Like I wasn't just convenient, or pretty enough, or a backup plan. And then, without asking, without prompting, he went down on me. No hesitation. No weird pause. No expectation in return. Just... generosity.
It was the first time anyone had ever done that for me. And maybe that's TMI, but it mattered. Because in that moment, I felt wanted in a way that had nothing to do with performance. I didn't have to beg to be prioritized. I didn't have to prove I deserved it. He just did it. Like I was allowed to enjoy something without earning it first. And honestly? That changed something in me.
My sisters never understood why I dated him. To them, he was Creepy Craig. The guy who used to drunk-message Jane, the one who'd had an awkward crush on Marie, the one with too much past and not enough filter. But I saw something different. Or maybe I wanted to see something different. He had stopped drinking. He was going to church. He seemed like he was trying, really trying, to turn his life around. And I wanted to believe that counted for something. That people could grow. Heal. Become safe.
For a little while, he was great. He gave. Freely. Generously. No pressure. No bartering. That had never happened to me before. It sounds so simple, so small, so bare minimum, but it made me feel like I was worth something more than what I could give back. Maybe that's why I stayed longer than I should have. Because in a world full of men who kept score, Craig didn't. For someone like me, coming out of the wreckage of being owned, used, and expected to smile through it. That felt revolutionary.