how i lost my virginity, pt. 1

[introduction.]

i figured that if i wanted to take up a whole lot of words with one story, i could always tell this one. this is a story that i have wanted to tell for the longest time, but for some reason or another, i hadn't. first, it was because i simply hadn't lost it yet. then, it was because i was keeping it a secret from everyone i knew as revenge for how they treated me. and then after that, it was because i just didn't have a reason to. further down the line, i'm sure i will forget most of the details, so it's probably a good idea for me to get them all down here.

i lost my virginity when i was 18. it wasn't because i "wasn't ready" or because i was "saving myself" or something stupid like that. i actually don't really know why. all i knew was that for the first 18 years of my life, no boy would touch me with a 10 foot pole.

i've often been told (both by friends and by boys) that it was because i was so "intimidating." yeah. ok. if that's what you say. but there's so much more to it then that. after a certain point, probably sometime just after i turned 18, that "do not touch" sign on my forehead disappeared, and i was bombarded with so many offers that i didn't know what to do. and it sucked. but now i'm getting ahead of myself.

i guess i'll start back when i was 16, when erica, my absolute best friend, threw her first "high school party" at her dad's house while he was away. this was around the same time that i was absolutely obsessed with a little blonde english girl named zoe. both her and this guy chris, among many others, came to this party, and we all proceeded to get absolutely shitfaced.

later on in the night, chris wanted me, and i was ok with that, but i wanted zoe much more. she had distracted me the entire night. despite my wishes to spend the night with her, i ended up sharing the bunk room with chris. we drunkenly made out for quite a while, and god he was the worst kisser ever. he was the kind of kisser that covered the entire lower half of your face with his mouth and lapped at it. i remember at one point he had said that i was a bad kisser. yeah. sure.

but anyway, he had managed to get me down to nothing but my underwear, which were a worn out pair of dark purple hanes (this was the moment that i first thought that the whole idea of having cute underwear was a good one). he really wanted me. he kept telling me,"hey, gimme your hand," but i knew much better. i knew exactly what he would try to do with it. he even tried to "show me what it would be like" by pantomiming the gyrations of intercourse, and i nearly had to shove my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing. he was so awkward. i mean, sex in itself is an awkward activity, but if you're involved in it, you just don't care that much. when you're just watching some 17 year old try so hard (yet fail) to turn you on, it's pretty damn funny.

as we started to sober up, being that we were in that room together for hours, i started to really realize that i didn't like this guy at all. yeah, he was kinda cute, kinda, but not really.

i was so grateful as the sun started to come up because it was my way out. i got out of there as quickly as i could, and he had to leave soon thereafter before his parents realized that he was gone.

at school on monday, he tried to do stupid stuff like hold my hand and pretend that we were "going out," but when i said that would have none of it, he just called me a bitch and huffed off. poor baby.

looking back on it, i really wasn't ready to start fucking around then. if it had been with someone i really cared about, i think i could have handled it. for instance, if it were zoe, i know i would have had the time of my life. but...it wasn't. and that was the closest to sex that i would get for another two years.

[part two]