Chasing Seagulls

{April 17, 2009}   Sex, Drugs, Etc.

I noticed that when I tagged a post with the word SEX, I got more hits than from any other post. It makes sense. Sex is important to people. But what exactly do people expect to see when they search for sex? When I searched myself, I didn’t see anything other than posts with the vague mention of sex. Nothing gooey. Nothing nasty. But, I didn’t search too far and I can’t read the foreign language blogs, so I could be wrong. I know if I searched for blogs about sex, I would want juicy details. Or maybe not. Sex is a complicated beast. So, here for your viewing pleasure, is another sex-y post…

Is it possible to lose your virginity twice? I have. The two definitions I see for losing one’s virginity is first-time sexual intercourse and the breaking of the hymen. The first time I had sex, my hymen was left intact. The second time, my hymen was broken and gone for good. These events happened almost two years apart and with two different guys. The problem is, the first guy sucked and the second one was kinda cool. So I’ve always wanted to disregard the first and claim the second. Officially, I give the blue ribbon to the guy who actually broke through. But it doesn’t erase the experience of the first time I had sexual intercourse, as much as I would like it to. The first time I had sex was about a month after my 15th birthday. It was with a guy named D. whom I had dated briefly a few months before but had broken up with. He had been trying to get me to have sex with him for a while, but I wouldn’t do it. I don’t know if it was because I was scared or if I wanted to hold on to my virginity or just because he was a little dickhead. I still kinda liked him in my twisted way (I’ve always been attracted to assholes), but something held me back. One day, I just got tired of him asking me and I told him that I would do it the next time I came into the city. (I lived in the country with my mom and stepdad but stayed with my grandma every other weekend as a compromise after I ran away from home the first time.) So, when I came back to my grandma’s, it was arranged. Our other friends, including my brother, Little T., and his cousins, went to the “Iranian store” up the street to wait for us. Little T. had just moved out of a house that was across the street from my grandma and we went in through the back door. The entire experience was so fucking sleazy. We did it in the living room floor. Both of us only took off our pants. I don’t think we kissed or anything. He just stuck it in. And he was so small. I know every girl says this, but I didn’t even feel him. At all. There was no pain, no pleasure, no awareness of another person connecting themselves to my body. Nothing. It was so disappointing. And it got worse. After he was done (he at least had enough sense to shoot off on the floor) he got up and left me there. I got dressed and went to the store to meet up with everyone else. When I got there, he had told this big story that made him look like a major stud — supposedly I had put scratches on his back. I told them it wasn’t true since he didn’t even take off his shirt, but everyone still believed him since he actually had scratches on his back, probably from some other little girl. So, in the usual manner of things, I looked bad and he looked cool. It was an awful experience. It was supposed to be a major milestone in my life and it was bullshit. I can say that we were young (he was 14), inexperienced, and all that, but it doesn’t change the fact that it sucked balls and I have to live with the memory. I didn’t have sex again for a year and a half. One day in the summer that I was 16, I was hanging out with a girl friend, D. She took me to meet a guy she liked named S. He was staying with a guy she used to like named A. We picked S. up and I saw A. briefly, enough to determine that he was cute. Then, D., S., and I headed to a local off-limits hangout. As soon as S. got in the car, he started rolling a joint. I asked him if that was always the first thing he did, and D. quickly chimed in that I had never smoked pot before. He said, “Oh, I’m gonna have fun with you.” So when we reached our destination, I got high for the first time. The first hit I took tasted like shit and I said so. S. told me “I would get used to it.” I probably wouldn’t have gotten high the first time, but S. gave me a shotgun. D. was a little jealous seeing our faces so close to each other’s, but he gave her one too, so it was cool. It was just a slight buzz, but it was interesting. We went back to pick him up the next day. A. came out to the parking lot while we waited for S. and hung out for a minute. He talked to D. while throwing pebbles at me. He never said anything to me. Just threw rocks. He was cute and I was getting a crush on him. Then S. came out and we left to get high again. I didn’t catch a buzz that time, but I was getting experience. The next day, S., A., and D. showed up at my house. I was living with my grandma by this time and I was on the phone with my mom when they got there. She told me not to go anywhere and I told her I wouldn’t. We went to my room and A. started flirting with me. He still didn’t say a whole lot, but he sat in my lap and leaned back against me on the bed. I was eating it up. It seemed I never got any guy I had a crush on to pay attention to me, but here he was. They said they were going on the mountain to get high and wanted me to come along. I really wanted to go but I had told my mom I wouldn’t leave. My brother happened to come home in the middle of this conversation and he told me to go. His explanation was that he did whatever he wanted and never got in trouble and I should do the same. So I decided to go. Before we left, A. left a message on the chalkboard in the kitchen that I had been kidnapped. We drove up to the mountain and got high, walked around, and had a really good time. (When you’re a teenager, two girls and two guys hanging out is always cool. It’s balanced.) About five o’clock, D. said she was supposed to be home and called her mother from a pay phone to let her know she was on the way. While D. was leaving the message, A. was sitting in my lap. I started bouncing him on my knee and he stopped me and said, “Don’t do that.” I was confused at first, but I got it after a couple of seconds. I was very naive. We started driving back to D.’s house. D. and S. were making out in the back seat and A. and I were talking. Somehow we got onto the subject of sex and I told him that I had sex one time but didn’t feel anything. He said he felt sorry for me. We also had a little game going with his front seat. The car was older so it had a bench seat in the front, but the passenger side wasn’t locked in, so every time he would stop, my side would move up. A. would scream, “Stop moving the seat!” and I would laugh. It was cute. When we dropped D. off, her mother came to the door and started screaming at her, asking her where I was. She said my mother had called the police and everyone was looking for me. It turns out that my mom had taken the message on the chalkboard seriously. D. told her mom that they had dropped me off somewhere else, so A. told me to duck and threw a shirt over me, then drove away. We dropped S. off somewhere and then were at a loss. I was scared to go home because I knew I was in trouble, so A. said I could come to his house. He wasn’t supposed to have girls in his room, so he snuck me in through his bedroom window. We were laying on the bed watching TV and then started making out. Things progressed, we got naked, and I realized I was about to have honest-to-God, real sex. When he tried the first couple of times, it wouldn’t go in. This is what told me that I was probably still a virgin, physically speaking. I told myself it was like putting in a tampon and relaxed my whole body. His timing was perfect. As soon as I relaxed, he thrust up and was there. It hurt a little, but it was definitely better than the first time. I didn’t get any sexual pleasure from it, but I enjoyed the closeness of our bodies. I had never been naked with a guy before. When I look back at it, I think it’s exactly what first-time teenage sex should be. Afterwards, we lay there and watched TV until his mom came to the door. She had been there the whole time, but he had told me to be quiet. Obviously, she figured out someone else was in there. She knocked on the door and told A. to open it. He threw a comforter on top of me and opened the door a little. I heard his mom asking him if he had a girl in the room and he told her no. She knew better, though, and told me to come out. I didn’t know for sure if she really knew I was there, so I stayed put, even though it was July and I was sweating under the blanket. She told him to get me out and take me home. He closed the door, fell on top of me and said, “We’re busted.” She had seen my foot poking out from under the comforter. So I got dressed and went out to the living room, hair mussed, cheeks pink, looking like I had just had sex. I never looked at her; I was so embarrassed. She told A. to take me home, take some clothes to his sister at her job, and to come straight back. So we left. We dropped off his sister’s clothes and then drove down to the pond near where she worked. It was dark by then and he told me that this was the place where he was going to kill me. I said, “Oh, really?” He started to drive again, then slammed on the brakes. My seat moved up and he said, “Stop moving the seat!” I threw my head back and laughed and he leaned over and kissed me. It was the best kiss ever. It was impulsive and surprising and wonderful. We drove back to his house and picked up a couple of guys along the way…see previous entry Chasing Seagulls. After that, we drove around for a while but eventually he had to take me home because he was running out of gas. It was about 2 a.m. when he dropped me off and I didn’t want to wake my mom or my grandma, so I went to sleep on the front porch swing. When my mom got up to let the dog out, she saw me and told me to come inside. I told her I had stayed at a friend’s house and she said the police had told her that it was probably a prank and didn’t take the note seriously anyway. So everything was cool. A. and I tried to see each other after that, but my mom was kind of strict about where I went. We talked on the phone and I was only able to sneak over to his house one more time. We had sex again, but it was rushed and I had to crawl out the window when his mom came home. He had shaved his hair off and I liked his hair, so it was sad. Then he told me that he was moving to Seattle with his family. I was upset that there wasn’t a chance to build a relationship with him. I really liked him. He called me before he left and that was it. So, the second experience was everything that it was supposed to be. Even if he was just like all the other 17-year-old boys getting some easy pussy, he didn’t give me that impression. And that mattered to me. I’m left with the memory of a good time with a good guy. And that’s the guy who took my virginity. Period.

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