I lost my virginity to my manager at Just For Feet ("The world's largest athletic shoe store!") two weeks before my 18th birthday in his apartment behind the bowling alley behind the mall. He was 23 and had just broken up with his fiance. It was less than spectacular.
That is the abridged version of my deflowering. If I were to tell you the longer vesion I might include the part where I left thinking "wasn't that supposed to hurt?"
If I were to write the longer version, I might also submit it to Deflowered Memoirs, a new website (and hopefully book) that shares women's stories of their first times.
Because I was sick with nerves, I wanted to treat him like a sex deliveryman who had come to quickly perform a service…to rid me of this stupid embarrassing leftover of babyhood. Then, he could be off to his next sad and pathetically old virgin client. Unfortunately, he wanted to eat before we got started. So, we went to the local Tasty Freeze, just like "Jack and Diane" of John Mellencamp's teen love anthem, which retrospectively seems ironically appropriate. Energized by burgers and fries, we headed back to my apartment, where I nervously attempted small talk. Thankfully, Mike grew impatient quickly. He clumsily lifted me mid-sentence, pushed me hard against the nearest wall, and shoved his tongue down my throat. "It's beginning" I thought with relief as he carried me to my room, threw me on the bed, disrobed me and deflowered me. There was no pain, no blood. I even had an orgasm thanks to his "cunning linguistics." About five minutes in to the experience I thought, “this is so not a big deal. What the fuck was I worried about?” Nevertheless, when it was over, I prayed for him to leave. I didn't want to be bothered with a post-coital intimacy that didn't exist. Thankfully, he did; and I quickly called Jackie to tell her all about the experience. Then, I made a list of other boys I wanted to "hang out" with now that the virginity monkey was off my back. But, before moving on to that list, I decided to travel north to Indianapolis to perfect my skills with Mike the following weekend…and the weekend after that, and the one after that…and then all hell broke loose...and I realized that perhaps sex wasn't as perfectly simple as I wanted it to be.
That's an excerpt from creator Abby Kincaid's memoir. But it sure does sound a lot like ours.
[Deflowered Memoirs]
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