First let’s talk terminology. Why is it called, "lost," my virginity? It’s not like I woke up the next morning and went, "Hey, where’d my hymen go?"
It’s just silly. I was a virgin, and then I wasn’t it. It wasn’t magical or necessarily special or wonderful or momentous.
It was painful and awkward.
I wanted to have sex really bad. (Really bad.) I think I had read too many Jackie Collins’s books and I was into smut paperbacks a little too heavily at the time. I wanted to know what it was all about. I also think my sex drive was in full effect even then.
He was 20. I was 16. (obviously, he wasn't a virgin. He knew what the hype was about, but he was willing to wait until I was ready.)
He was my first "real, true" boyfriend.
We had been dating I think for 2 ½ or 3 months. I had planned to wait 6 months into the relationship. Yeah, nice plan, but I was impatient. Perhaps you’ve heard that patience isn’t a virtue I have.
I basically, no, I did initiate it.
He wasn’t into pressuring me or hurrying me along.
He was willing to wait until I was ready.
I wasn’t.
I wanted to see what all the hype was about.
I didn’t want to die a virgin.
Perhaps an odd thing for a 16 year old to be thinking, but hey the teenage years are full of angst and awkward moments. I saw this as my chance.
It was November. He rented a hotel room. His best friend and his girlfriend rented a room as well. Not their first time.
After a lot of making out and foreplay, we started to have sex. After several tries and him not being able to break through my hymen he finally asked me what I wanted him to do.
I said, "Just go for it."
He did.
Oh holy hell. Pain. Pain and blood and pain. I’m sure I was a tad tense at the time, which only added to it. But, ouch.
Was it magical and special?
Would I sound cynical if I said, no?
I remember it, but was it magical? Ah, no.
I did feel oddly more grown-up and mature. More of a woman. Yeah, I know. What hooey, but it's true. I wouldn't equate that with magical. Just more of a, yayy! I had sex, I had sex! I get to have more sex! I get to have more sex!
As much of an asshole as he turned out to be shortly thereafter and for almost a year following, I am still glad my first time was with him. He wasn’t about pressuring me. It was up to me where and when and I said when I was ready. It wasn’t him telling or asking me to do it. It was all up to me. (To prove what an asshole he was and I'm sure still is, he is the only ex that I wouldn't talk to or even say 'hi' to, to this day. I've lived with an ex-boyfriend. Obviously I'm not into grudges. He would be the exception.)
To complete the story.
Shortly after having sex I met my girlfriend out in the hallway and we started laughing. The reason?
She was giving her boyfriend a blowjob and threw-up on him.
Spaghetti.
That story has stuck with me for 16 years and I think of it every time I gag.
(I somehow feel it will stick with all of you now, too.)
Anyway.
Shortly after returning to the hotel room two cops came a knockin on our hotel door. They checked the place out as well as us.
Looking back, they totally could have arrested my boyfriend. He was 20; I was 16 and a minor. Hello, statutory rape.
So, that’s my story. What’s yours?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Well if you were two years older then four years isn't much of a difference. At that age it's a world of difference. LOLOL Pasta and gaging what a picture.
MIkey: At 31, I agree. At 16 although it certainly crosses my mind and something my mom had questions about at first.
Let's just say I was incredibly mature for my 16 years. To the point that I blew my mom away quite often.
And let's just say he was immature for his age.
Redblooded: Is it safe to assume she was not a virgin. Cause, oh holy hell. If I was in pain, I can only imagine.
To everyone else: come on! Two comments? Two?
I think it is safe to assume that everyone who reads this has a story.
No one has a 'good' story.
Everyone has an awkward embaressing story.
C'mon.
The first time for me I don't remember...at least, I don't remember all of it. I remember looking at the mirrors on the wall and thinking, holy shit, I'm having sex!! And then I remember waking up in the morning, going, holy shit, that's a lot of blood. Pretty, eh? At least I remember his name. And the amount of Jack Daniels I'd drank.
ptg: that's awesome!
It's nice to see you again!
Ladies, I don't ENJOY being the bearer of bad news, but since you caved and gave it up so easily, let me tell you what you LOST besides your virginity.
Serves you right, too. Morality IS important.
I can only hope that this lecture reaches some hapless girl out there who wants to be good, do the right thing, and abstain.
Interest piqued now, evil doers?Okay, I will tell you then. Here is the reward that is now beyond YOUR pathetic reach.
To be in heaven, as one of 72 lucky virgins in wait for their dream guy, a dark and handsome Al Quada suicide bomber.
I hope you're happy. Heathens.
Post a Comment