Things just kind of plugged along for a while. We went back to school to start second semester. We continued to have sex, but not a ton, as we obviously both had roommates. It was actually pretty lame. We had a system down where we knew this roommate or that roommate’s class schedule, and we basically had a schedule of when we could have sex. It was usually in her dorm and it was usually on the couch.

We did mix it up at times, though. At night, when most people were asleep in their rooms, we’d sneak down to the basement of the dorms where they had individual study rooms with just one desk and a chair. We’d sneak into one of those, close the door, turn off the light, slap on a condom and I’d bend her over on the floor. It was risky and sexy and such a… “college” thing to do. Many times we heard someone coming and had to stop and quickly pull our pants back up and cower in the corner, hoping they wouldn’t come in. No locks on the door or anything.

But overall, we were just inseparable. It was never just Stacy, or it was never just Owen. It was always Stacy and Owen. We ate every meal together, we spent every weekend night together. That whole first year of college we didn’t drink once. We’d just sit in a dorm room and cuddle and watch movies and order pizza or go out for dinner. We really were a pretty lame, old couple, especially for only being 19. I don’t know, we were ok with it.

I was isolated, though. People had given up inviting me to things, because they knew I’d either say no or I’d want Stacy with me. I knew my roomie was so sick of her, as she was always in the room. We never really had bro time, because I either wasn’t around or she was with me. But I had just absolutely latched onto her and depended on her for everything and vice versa… we just didn’t stray away from that. Looking back, I felt 100% trapped. But at the time, I didn’t know any better. It was my first real relationship. Just a dumb 19-year-old boy.