Pic @ Harley Weir
Losing your virginity is super important in the grand scheme of your life—major right of passage, sexual discovery, loss of innocence, becoming a woman, blah blah, whatevs. I remember my first time like it was just yesterday. It was the most profound twenty-six seconds of my life.
Growing up my girl friends and I would sit around for hours, planning the details our first sexual experience. We were so delusional, all genuinely believing we were going to lose our V-cards on a bed of roses to the loves of our lives. No one informed us it would more likely to be a semi-rape situation with a total stranger, at the house party of someone you can’t remember if you actually know, sandwiched between a game of beer pong and a 45 minute vom session. Or, even worse, in the ass. Ignorance is bliss.
I lost my virginity to boyfriend of four days, Peanut. I was sixteen, he was fourteen. I was a sophomore, he was a freshman. I was fresh-faced with blonde, highlighted hair and flared jeans (horrible), he was tall and rail thin, with eyes that were slightly too close together and skin a sickly pale green. Looking back, I think his appearance probably influenced my taste in men from then on. He was a skateboarder and worked at McDonalds, which meant he always smelt vaguely of french-fries. He tasted salty.
Peanut and I did it on the football field of our high school, next to a goal post. You can’t get much more teen movie than that. It was nighttime, and we laid down on the wet grass and took turns taking off each other’s clothes. Once he was inside me, I suddenly felt overwhelmingly self-conscious about where to put my hands. Did they go on him? On me? Should I be erotically stroking myself? Like fondling my breasts maybe? All the porn I had watched in anticipation of this moment was now suddenly failing me. It didn’t matter; just second later, after a few graceless thrusts from both parties, Peanut came into his baggy blue condom. He seemed slightly embarrassed, but also far too elated to actually care. For me the sex didn’t really feel like much of anything. It didn’t hurt like everybody said it would, but it didn’t feel particularly good either. It just kind of… was. Although I do remember watching Peanut’s face as he came feeling pretty, like, spiritual or something. I think I described it to my friends afterward as being, “The closest thing to God I’ve ever felt,” although I’m not exactly sure of the wording.