My Name Is Jasper

Take Me To Church

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human, only then I am clean

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

Take Me to Church - Andrew Hozier-Byrne  (65)

I was 17 years old when I found out a story was going around in my korfball team that I had raped a girl the previous summer. It hit me like a flash of lightning in a clear blue sky. I didn't understand where that story came from. I felt so sick that I genuinely believed I was going to throw up.

The guy – naively I had considered him a friend – who had spread the rumour amongst some of the other players of my team was a close friend of the summer sweetheart in question. Well 'sweetheart' might not be the right term. The girl had blown a then 16-year-old Jasper away when I met her at a big music festival and we dated throughout the summer. We were 2 kids, going through those scary teenage years. I was an inexperienced boy, pretending – and failing at that – to be a man. She appeared to be a strong and cool young woman, hiding the fact she was a girl in a situation of which she didn't understood the rules. Both being in our first serious teenage relationship, neither of us really knew what we were doing. Confused or scared, we (well mostly me) weren't able to communicate and thus it was doomed not to work out. It didn't. We broke up, twice, both still virgins.

My first reaction when I heard of the allegation was to call her. We hadn't spoken for months. When she picked up the phone my heart was racing. I told her what I had learned and asked if she knew what was going on. She said she didn't. I told her I would call her back after I cleared things up. I never did. Immature fool I was; my thoughts were figuring out how to sue the guy who had been making the allegations. I asked my dad what to do. "Don't be a fool, let it go." (66)

Shortly after, the guy from my team quit and I never talked to him again. And I never will. Hearing that rumour will remain one of my worst teenage memories. I never saw the girl again either.

Years went by before I had the courage to reach out again digitally. I am happy I did though. Finally, we were both able to open up and share more than we ever could when we were kids. It was a relief to learn that she remembered our brief history, her first kiss, fondly. It was good to finally have some closure.

It was nice to learn she is happy, living with the love of her life, her soon to be husband. She assured me that the genuine smile of Julie on almost every Facebook picture shows I must be doing something right this time. Julie is the love of my 30-year-old life. Loving her is easy. She kisses away all my blues (67). I hope she will never lose that amazing smile in all the pictures to come. I apologize for sounding so cheesy you feel a baguette and some red wine are missing, but it feels good knowing that the people around you or that are important to you are happy.

I said before in this book that boys should be princes to their princesses. Let me take this opportunity to offer my most sincere apologies to anyone who feels I failed at my own rule. 16 year old Jasper – or 22 year old Jasper – wasn't a prince all the time. 30-year-old Jasper knows that. And although I hope and believe those moments were exceptions, I am sorry.