A while back I posted losing my virginity, part 1. A reader recently reminded me I never did post part 2, which is equally funny in its own way. So here goes.
A few months after the first attempt, I was re-dating a boyfriend I’d been very close to in high school. I had wanted to give him my virginity, anyway, back then, so sure. He could be the one.
After a few weeks of dates, we decided we were going to Do It. And everything felt very normal—kissing, fooling around—this was common ground. We’d done this before. I was nervous. He said he’d be very careful with me.
I wasn’t really nervous about the pain, though I couldn’t say that to him. I was nervous that I wouldn’t know what to do.
Sounds silly, sure—I’d seen porn by then, had a general concept of the inning and outing, but I wasn’t sure how it would feel, how to move, how fast, in which direction, what?
Somewhere in the middle of this mental tennis game in my head he slipped on a condom and pushed inside of me.
Didn’t hurt. Actually, truth be told, didn’t feel like much at all. Felt OK, I suppose. How was I to know?
I closed my eyes and concentrated hard on “moving right”. I felt so awkward, like my hips were moving in the wrong direction. Kind of like trying to write with your left hand for the first time. You can picture the right movements in your head but your body’s just executing them all wrong.
He was very quiet (always was) but I was sure I was Doing It Wrong.
Sure enough, he stopped after about twenty thrusts.
I was humiliated. More so when he rolled off me and went to the bathroom.
I’d done it wrong. Maybe I was some kind of sexual dyslexic who’d just never get it right. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved at all, just let him move. But no, guys like women who help, right?
Somewhere in all this mental castigation, he came back and laid beside me. Snuggled up to me, a little, and asked me if I was OK.
I was nearly in tears. I swallowed them, and whispered quietly to him, “I’m sorry I didn’t do it right.”
He sat up a little and looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry I was moving the wrong way. I’m just new at this.”
He looked surprised. “You were fine.”
“Then why did you stop?”
He shrugged. “I came.”
Thankfully, I eventually learned that men could last for more than twenty strokes. 😉