Tuesday, August 23, 2011

You Never Forget Your First

When I was posting that meme, this weekend, about things you have or have not done, it had a thing about if you lost your virginity before the age of 16.  I most certainly didn’t, and mentioned that I should do a post on that topic.  This is it.

Last year, I did a couple of posts about things you would change if you could go back in time.  In one of them, I mentioned my high school girlfriend.  She was a sweet girl and luckily for me, just as inexperienced at being a couple as I was.  But by our senior year, I was ready to move on to the ‘next step,’ while she was completely in the “nuh-uh” camp.  I was all “Let me sleep on it,” and she was all “Will you love me forever?

So bowing to the peer pressure from my poon-hound buddies, I ended up calling it quits with her.

I know… classy.  But I was lucky, because I wouldn’t have known what to do with the poon even if I’d have hounded it right up to the door.  But I was so sure that my next big romance was right around the corner…

Next thing you know, I’m a freakin’ junior in college and still no closer to home base.  I KNOW, right?  There I was, literally surrounded by an entire campus of potential poon, but still too shy to really seal the deal.

It’s funny when you go to a nearby college… sure, there are people attending from all over, but somehow you manage to find the people from your high school and hang out with them.  That’s how it worked with me.

I was a commuter student, so I didn’t have any kind of social apparatus to prop me up.  But I did have the Commuter Center.  This was a place where people that commute to school could use for a base of operations.  They had lockers, snack machines, a TV room and a big common room.  They also had their own kind of self-government, with officers and everything, which represented our interests to the campus Student Government.  The Commuter Center became my home away from home.

So, in such a relatively small pond like that, it was easy to find the others from my high school.  But the funny thing was, even though none of us really ran in the same circles in high school, we all became fast friends at college.

There was one girl, V, who I knew from a couple of high school classes.  (And no, it’s not this “V”.)  She was kind of mousy… really nice, played in the marching band, never said much… she was kind of unremarkable. 
No, there were no stories about Band Camp. (As far as I know.)

But then once we went to college, I don’t know; I think it was a new haircut, but suddenly, I was kinda like, “Yowza.”  I finally noticed how she was all tall and lean and seriously cute.

Still, you may be thinking… “Jeebus, Bluz… it took you til freakin’ JUNIOR YEAR to get a little sumpm-sumpm??  Dude!

It seems weird to me too that it took that long.  But, before sitting down to write this, I double-checked my dates.  All during college, I had these little Day-by-Day calendars, from which I ran my entire academic, professional and social life.  Everything was in there, including my classes, assignments, work schedule, parties, dates, where I went, how much I drank and (eventually) what kind of monkey business I was up to.  (If Excel spreadsheets had been invented then, I’d have used them too.)  So I’m sure of the time frame.

First off, I think that freshman year was pretty much of a wash.  I was taking honors courses, which were intense, but didn’t take up a lot of time.  So I tended to go to class, then go home, as opposed to hanging out more in the Commuter Center.  Once I started hanging out more and our little high school group intermingled more with the other commuters, we began get out of the corner a bit.

So once we got out and started to get our drink on, things loosened up and V and I started getting close.  Eventually, we started dating.  Things were definitely looking up.  She was as green as I was, but it wasn’t the same as with my first girlfriend.  V didn’t seem to really have a strong stance against doing the freak-nasty; it was more like she just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.  Or perhaps no one sufficiently compelling had asked.  She sure liked to kiss though.  She used to say, “A kiss without the tongue is like a sandwich without the meat.”  Maybe that’s what she learned at band camp.

But still, there were complications… namely, her mother.

For some reason, the parents of every girl I’ve ever dated have always hated me.  I think it’s because they have some kind of radar that tells them instantly that no matter how polite I act or how well mannered I am, they know that my only priority is boning their daughter.

OK, maybe they had a point.  V’s family had a nice pool table down in their finished basement, so naturally we spent a lot of time down there “playing pool.”  And by that I mean that we’d play one game and then make out like crazed weasels, while every so often, knocking some billiard balls together for sound effects.

But one day, V’s mom just totally went off on me about how I wasn’t good enough for her daughter because I didn’t know how to fix cars and because I worked at a gas station.  I was dumbfounded… it was clear out of left field.  I tried to explain that it was just a part time job to pay for college and hardly my chosen profession.  (Plus, V worked at freakin’ Wendys!)

Anyway, throughout that whole diatribe, V just sat quietly on the side, saying absolutely nothing.  That’s probably what pissed me off the most… that she didn’t even try to stick up for me.  So our relationship hit a bit of a chill period.  But eventually, we saw that we still cared for each other, so we started dating again, on the sly.

Since she “wasn’t allowed” to see me, she’d say she was going out with her friends, then she’d come to my house, then I’d take her out to where ever we were going.  And then one night, her parents were out of town and her brother was working, so she told me that I could come and see her at home.

(Yes, I’m finally getting to the good stuff…  But you wouldn’t respect me if I hadn’t set it all up first.)

I knew that this was going to be a big night when after she let me in and I hugged her, I could feel that she wasn’t wearing a bra.  V always wore a bra, probably even to sleep.  I don’t know where she thought they were going that she had to keep them tied down all the time.

Anyway, my antennae went up immediately.  We made out on the couch for a little while before she finally stood up and announced her intentions by saying, “I want to take you into the bedroom and use you up until there’s nothing left but a dried up husk.  Drive it home, Daddy-man!

OK, she didn’t say that.  I have no idea what she actually said, but she made it clear that It Was Time.  But it sounded like that to me…

We peeked in her bedroom, but seeing that she slept on a little twin bed, we decided that wouldn’t do.  So instead, we went into her parent’s bedroom.  (Oh man, was THAT sweet revenge!)

I’m really glad I had a condom with me, that’s for sure.  I don’t think there would have been enough blood in left in my brain to operate heavy machinery all the way down to the drugstore and back.  In fact, I had two… one that my buddy Rik gave me which I’d been carrying around since I graduated high school, and one of a much more recent vintage.  Not wanting to leave anything to chance, I used the new one.  This was a good move because a year later when I finally did have the chance to try the old one, I’d roll it down the old flag pole and it kept snapping back up like it was a faulty window blind.  It looked like my willie was wearing a yarmulke. 

But I digress…

So, condom applied, I proceeded to attempt every maneuver I’d ever read about in Penthouse Forum (where the readers write in their kinky letters), all in about 5 minutes.  I didn’t want to miss out on anything…   Somehow, we managed to complete the deed without breaking anything or poking anyone’s eye out. 

OK, seriously, it was a tender moment.  The fact that it was the first time for the both of us was a good thing.  No judgments or baggage; just a safe and non-stressed First Time to remember.  We figured it out together.

One of the other thing’s I’d always read back then was how girls liked to be cuddled afterwards and how it was a very emotional time.  So I was prepared to be the Best Boyfriend ever and cuddle her ass for the next 5 hours, if that’s what it took.  I was going to stroke her hair and whisper promises of eternal love.

Of course, plans don’t always work out the way you’d think.  V was so worried about her brother coming home from work and finding me there, never mind that he wasn’t due home for hours, she gave me the bum’s rush out the front door.  I barely had time to pull my pants up and I was hopping down the driveway.  The whole drive home I kept alternating between going “WTF?” and giggling hysterically because I’d finally earned my swordsman’s card.  But geez, would it have killed her to cuddle me a little?  Chicks

We didn't get to reprise our Big Night for another couple of months.  I don’t remember why; we were probably squabbling about something or another.  But then she found herself living short term with some friends off campus and we started hooking up again with more regularity.  Sometime after she got off work at Wendy’s, she’d come down to my little gas station (where I was the only one working at any given time) and we’d hide out in the office, making out like crazed weasels.

But that just made it worse when she moved back under “house arrest” at home.  Eventually I figured out that our relationship would just never work.  How can you seriously date someone when she has to hide you from her family?  There can’t be a future there.  And I knew that she would never, EVER stand up to her mother.  She just didn’t have that in her.  So late in our junior year, I ended it.

It occurs to me that this breakup (and some more peripheral stories) would make up another post so I may pick this thread up again on Thursday.  Suffice to say, it ended up being a real blowout.

But the real tragedy is that I never got to mix it up with her mother again, because I had the ultimate trump card I was dying to use…

OK, so I work at a gas station, but do you know what we did in YOUR bed last November?

“Game, set and match to the bluzdude…”


Mrs. Bachelor Girl said...

Yeah, reading this, I was really hoping you'd go with the newer condom. Safety first, Bluz!

Jessica R. said...

Crazy weasels! I love young relationship make out sessions. I was a late bloomer too. Nothing wrong with that. I think it makes you appreciate it more.

Also, I think all teenage boys just want to bone their girlfriends, so parents should be wary.

Cassie said...

Yah, one thing I've never done is had sex in a parental figure's bed. Children's playground slides, sure, but not a parental figure's bed.

Bad, Bluz. Baaaaad.

Unapologetically Mundane said...

A+! Great read! Super blogger!

The best part was "But geez, would it have killed her to cuddle me a little? Chicks…" after mention of the word "poon", like, 2000 times.

bluzdude said...

Mrs. Bachelor Girl,
What? Out of this great, sweeping love story, you’re worried about safety?

But yes, in that particular case, I was no dummy. The only reason I ever even tried the old one is because I detest letting things go to waste unless absolutely necessary. (And wasting the ‘old one’ was definitely necessary. It might have gotten shot across the floor.)

I have no regrets about blooming ‘late.’ As far as I’m concerned, things happened the way they were supposed to for me. I wouldn’t have been ready if it had happened any earlier. I look at my First Time as an overwhelmingly positive experience… right up until getting the bum rush to the curb. But that was just panic…

Oh, and teenage boys absolutely only want to bone their girlfriends. It’s our default position. And unless parents are kidding themselves, they ought to be on red alert at all times.

Reminding myself to never play on the swings at your house.

I might have felt bad about the bed thing, had circumstances been different with her mother, but in the end, it was just desserts. (But obviously, with no cherry on top.)

I love that word! Poon! Poon! Poon! It just sounds so friendly. And don’t forget, Poons spelled backwards is Snoop!

“Yo, hound doggs represent!”

Anonymous said...

In the words of a wise man (Billy Joel): "Catholic girls [and Bluz] start much too late."

My recollection of the seventies and eighties is that they weren't nearly as sexually active as people think. Certainly not as much as they seem today. Not that many of my friends were doing it in high school or college. But then, either I was hanging out with an especially nerdy set or they were all just really discrete.

Kernut the Blond said...

I have to agree with Mundane. I also loved the line.. "But geez, would it have killed her to cuddle me a little? Chicks…" lol

sherry stanfa-stanley said...

Oops, sorry, I didn't really MEAN to forward this post to V's mother...

bluzdude said...

I agree! All the talk about a 70's sexual revolution and I'm pretty sure I missed it. If I'd only known that herpes and AIDS were lurking, I might have tried harder.

Not that it would have made a difference.

I hope that means you agreed with the "Great read. Super Blogger!" part too...

If I had her email address, (or if I could even remember her first name) I'd send it to you. What do I care what that shrew thinks. And the statute of limitations has expired, regarding what she could do to her 50-year old daughter.

Marie Nicole said...

I wish I could remember... I remember who it was with, just not that first time. Oddly enough I remember back then not remembering either. Must have been totally uneventful!

bluzdude said...

Wow… I thought you chicks imprinted every iota of detail from those kinds of events. What happened… roofies?