I was high and drunk and at a party and, against my better judgement, got in a cab with a Harvard student and went back to his apartment, where we fucked each other’s brains out. He was a good lay but boring to talk to. I bounced out of there early in the morning with the sex hair and the runny makeup, and got in the T and never spoke to him again.
I lived in Texas for a great portion of my life, including high school. A decade and three dozen partners later, I still have one regret: I lost my virginity to a Republican. A good ol’ Presbyterian I-voted-for-Bush Republican.
I did it with a fat guy in the front seat of a Pontiac.
It was a Christmas party at my best high school friend’s house. After I downed seven shots of tequila and a Mexican beer over the course of a little more than an hour, we did it in my friend’s basement on his futon. The one thing is, I don’t really remember it… I have blurry recollections of the foreplay and the end of the night, but nothing from the intervening period. But the other party, more often known as my girlfriend, said it happened right then and there.
I took her to a Motel 6, got a room, did the deed twice, and left.
Too drunk to remember much anything about it.
My first time will happen after I’m married, because I want it to actually mean something.
The apartment was off-campus. Dry humping wasn’t enough anymore. Sex was restrained and careful. Frequent prompts to ensure the partner wasn’t in too much discomfort. Relief at the loss of virginity afterwards.
I was feeling pretty confident, actually, I had been watching my friends going at it for half an hour so I felt like I had the theory down. When my turn came around, I slid my sweaty fingers into inviting holes and squeezed the firm roundness in both hands, and…
Wait, we are talking about bowling, right? What? Oh! Never mind then.