Firsts
Let's warp back to my third year of high school as a Junior. I was newly 17, and sick & tired of not having a girlfriend up to this point in my life. I'd never experienced any kind of lengthy physical contact much less a kiss. And let's face it. I was 17, and ready to jump anything that moved... or stayed still for that matter. Irregardless, I did have standards, and I desperately wanted to shake off the "nerd" stereotype that I was labeled with throughout my academic career. (I thoroughly shook off that label once in college, but that's another post of hilarity.)
Now, for perspective, my high school was small. When I mean small, I mean that the entire building would probably fit inside a Super Target, or a decent sized Walmart. We literally had 100 students in my graduating class, and we surpassed each of the 3 years before us by about 15. So yeah, small is an understatement.
[The year after I graduated, they had completed a single campus concept for the entire town into that one structure. It was a melting pot of K-12 under one roof. Granted, there was an insane amount of construction that went on during my Junior & Senior years, but fortunately it didn't impact classes much.]
Okay... so it was a small school, I'm a nerd, and I'd like to change my image a bit. I had just reached the place in my personality that I was tired of the "chase". I figured I'd just be myself, and stop trying to play the game.
The result was meeting my first true girlfriend, who I shall call Candy Girl (CG). But not to be confused with the fabulous & incredible CG of Pretty Dumb Things. With the numerous talents & gushy adjectives that I could throw towards Chelsea Girl, I'd have as many, if not more for my first girlfriend. So not to bore you, I'll continue with the saga.
I met CG, and she was taller than I, and a heavier type. Granted, I'm not altogether short at 5'6", but certainly not even average. She was around 6', so yeah, comical is a pretty apt description. If I stood to the right of her, we'd just about make a 1-0 in the photo.
Regardless, she was intrigued by me, and I was clueless to her advances. I take that back. I wasn't sure. I wondered if she was interested in me for our first day together. I had her & a mutual female friend of ours take me to the mall. I brought along my stash of cash that I had set aside for just this purpose. (Being 17, working, but not having much to spend it on besides hanging out & video games, I had collected a vast $200, which was probably the most money I had in one place at one time... ever.
So we're at the mall, and I played a "Ben doll" for the day. They picked stuff out, I tried it on, we made decisions on it. But I ultimately fell on their opinions because my taste in clothing had gotten me to the irritation I felt regarding my current state of affairs. In simple terms, I wanted out of the "nerd club".
So CG & I spent plenty of time together in the next few days, my cluelessness evaporated, and more firsts were had. My first stroke of her arm... Oh my God, what have I done? What if she's not interested in anything "close" yet? My first kiss. My first french kiss. Wow. I rounded first headed for second base. Holy hell, it was a stand-up double. Absolute WOW. I've been missing out!
I think if we hadn't been at her house, with her parents upstairs, it could've been an in the park homer, or at least a stretch-triple. It was that hot. That intense. And I was to learn in a few days, that "easy". No, that wasn't a subtle declaration. By day number five, five of our "relationship" (can I call it a relationship when it's that young?), at my apartment, with fumbling hands and nerves of Jell-o, I no longer considered myself a virgin. And while I'd love to regal you with this amazing long-winded story of lust & passion, I'll be honest. There was no long. There was no repeat. At least not that night.
In the coming week, I made up for it, and then some. As I was to quickly learn, she had a hair trigger. Looking back, I would love to have a discussion about this with her because it just seemed unnatural. Honestly, in a session where I would hold out as much as I could, she would get there at least twice, if not thrice. I felt like a stud. A short, skinny, nerdish stud, but still.
So, yeah. I ended up having tons of sex to make up for my 17 years of forced abstinence. It was great. But let's fast-forward to the most
We're now 8 months into our relationship, and I find out by her confession that she takes coke. And not the "real thing" with the distinctive red & white swoosh. I mean the white powder.
So yeah, a first of monstrous proportions.
I could go on & on, and I will. But not now. I think I've wasted enough of your time already.
----------------------------------------
P.S. Thank you all for being patient with me as I've been working like an insane man of late. I appreciate you, and know that some of you have been subtly, or not so subtly hounding me to post again. So here you go.
Comments