The First Firsts


1. "Puppy love"

I have such a strange memory that I would be remiss not to mention Colleen.  She was blonde, with a round face ( but this was very early childhood, so we all had round faces ), she was soft, slow to upset, with warm intentions.  ( She was a very interesting catch for the age before I knew what a girl was. )  I don't really remember hanging around her, but I remember this strange detail when I told her that I would go with her.  ( Remember those days?  "Will you go with me?"  I think that was the term, anyway.  I don't remember 'steady', being in there at all. )  So she was unusually excited, on this day that I remember, and when recess let out, I found myself being led to this little church house construction in the middle of the play ground.  It was red.  And crowded.  The next thing I knew, I was placed by Colleen's side, wondering what the hell was going on.  There was a little boy in front of us, whose father was a minister, who recited the sacred vows of marriage, to which Colleen whole-heartedly pledged, and I (even at this time) hesitantly consented.  A ring was produced, and onto Colleen's finger it went.  There were a few cheers, and then the bell rang.

A while after this ( days? months? end of school? ), our class was circled around a television.  It was a special day, in that we weren't going to be going to class for a while after.  Colleen was upset and crying.  I wondered what was wrong with her.  At the end of the class, she handed me a note, and then ran off in tears.  It was my first "Dear John" letter.  She was breaking up with me because I didn't pay attention to her.  As I felt the tear drop on the letter, I wondered if I would be less popular with my newly found friends now.

( Looking back on this, it sure looks like Colleen made the right decision. )


2. "First Kiss" +

I think I was in middle school.  I had hooked up with a tough looking blonde.  She had short hair and a fine but noticeable jawline, deeply colored eyes ( I think that they were blue ), and lipstick.  I would learn to not like lipstick tonight.  I met her through my friend, Aaron, who was training me not to be the biggest loser at school.  ( I really think I ranked #1. )  It was a regular Houston-bred nerd meets ex-popular-guy-from-Cali.  Just like the movies.  One day I just showed up in skate rags, after memorizing all the components of a skateboard, and the school just froze.  It was when Aaron heard "Hey, is that new guy Doug?" and saw an entire table turn to look, all at once, that he began to understand the forces he had taken on.  But I digress. 

For now, Kim and I were sitting on a high curb outside of the mall, and I suspect that I wasn't listening to a damned thing that she said.  She was finishing her cigarette, and looking far away.  And I was wondering how I was going to make my move.  I was pretty sure it wasn't going to happen, except that in the next instant, I was kissing her and wondering what happened to the gap of time in between when I was watching her and wondering how to kiss her and now.  She tasted awful.  But there was a high involved with the tongue nuzzling that was next to none, so I eventually forgot how she tasted.  Eventually we parted ways, I think.

Some time after that, plans were made to spend the night with her.  My friend Aaron, my instructor of social acquisitions, refused to give me a condom, saying that I'd thank him later.  But I look back on this, and I don't see the big deal.  She still seems handsomly attractive, and when she opened up to me, her rough exterior all but melted at her will.  I know this because I was there when I ended it.  But, for now, I'm at her house, she's brought a blender full of crushed ice to her bedside table, and I've removed at least her shirt.  I recall that I gave her a back massage, which she really liked, and then followed it with putting a spoonful of the crushed ice on her back, which she was really irritated with.  I look back and I can read the expression that I didn't understand back then: she was irritated because I had ruined the mood.  I was clueless of this, but that didn't stop me from undressing her and touching her all night long.  I couldn't go any further, and somehow, she was fine with what I did, with both of us knowing this.  ( YAY, US !  I had no idea what kind of bullet I dodged that night, in that random act of responsibility. )

In the morning, she told me her dad was a cop.  ( I told her I would have liked to have known this before-hand. )  She told her big sister that I was good with my hands ( at which point, I think I choked on the orange juice ), but she was referring to the possbility that I might be able to fix her sister's jewelry, which I did.  ( I have no idea when she learned I was good with my hands like that. )

Sometime after this, my step-father was committed to a psychiatric hospital, and the pressure at home caused me to retreat away from everyone.  I still remember her voice echoing from the phone on the other side of the wall as she begged me to let her in and let her know what was wrong.  My life could have been very different if I hadn't already checked out by the time I talked to her on the phone.

I caught up with her sometime after.  It was surreal.  She had turned full punk, and I had started into my calm stage.  She spent the night, kicking at my shoes, with her boyfriend in tow.  I wanted to talk to her, but she wasn't willing to look back.


3.  First "Sex Talk"

My friend recruited his brother's girlfriend to explain how to touch a girl prior to some party that we attended.  After listening to her ( very patient ) explanation -- and I'm still trying to figure out why the hell she offered the information to me -- If I didn't have the instinct, doesn't that mean it was too soon for me?  But I had distilled her sage wisdom into a pattern of four words: "French, Fondle, Finger, ****."  That's a little embarrassing.  But not as strange as the fact that my friend Aaron asked for the order later that night, after he had been drinking.  ( The dork wasn't even a virgin. )


4. First "First Time"

"It's time to get you laid," he said, as the mischief dilated his almost black drug-polluted eyes.

The idea sounded good to me, I think.  It may have made me nervous.  There were a lot of times that ended in not-getting-laid.  Perhaps it didn't seem like a reasonable objective anymore.

Undaunted by my puzzlement in lieu of a verbal response, he continued, "We'll have my uncle's house to ourselves two weeks from now.  You'll invite that girl you've been hanging around with to a party, and then we'll leave you in the room upstairs."

"Ok", I said, "I'll ask her and see what she says."

"Don't ask her about the sex; " he counseled, "just ask if she wants to come to the party."

Something felt very wrong with this plan.

Later, I was on the phone with her, as I had been, many times before.  I told her that we could have sex, if she wanted, and that I wanted to.  She wasn't overly excited about the idea.  I dropped the subject, figuring that she had made up her mind.

We were at the party.  As promised, we had been left alone in the bedroom.  The kissing mixed delicious endorphine cocktails.  In time, we were both naked, and I was top of her, looking down at her.  I figured that she had let me get this far because she wanted to give me what I wanted.  I didn't feel up to it.  I didn't care if it was the only time we'd been able to be alone enough for our first time.  I was pulling away when she suddenly pulled me into her.

I had been so amazingly wrong with my assumptions about what she was thinking.  Her heat was intensely enveloping the most sensitve part of my body, and the silence was filled with her distressed gasps, yet she was pressing on.  I'm not sure that I knew what to think.  It was exciting that she was so interested, but everything seemed to be going wrong.  She was obviously in pain, and my concern for her was taking any interest in the act away.  But I was young, she was very attractive, and she was pushing me onward.  I came, for the first time, and had the strangest experience I've ever had.

All emotion ceased, the electricity of the ****** played out, and I saw a book open, a dictionary, and heard the defintion of sex, from a purely biological perspective.  Despite everything, I was left with a strange taste in my mouth.  I would tell my friend, later that night, when he asked, that it was the most unemotional experience I could imagine.

He replied: "I know, ain't it great?"

I looked at him like he was crazy.  It hardly seemed worth the risk.

Kathryn and I would continue with our sexual adventures, stealing opportunities in parents' houses ( oh geeze,  we were all so stupid ), and all of them would end the same way with her.  She had to be getting frustrated.  And then, one day, when we were ******* in a friend of her's house, and I was expecting parents to come rushing in with a whole shitload of bad, she excaimed:

"Yes!  Oh, YES!"

It was her first ******.  She was so elated about it.  I think she was even happy.

Months later, we were standing in a store, reading greeting cards.  She picked up a greeting card with Garfield on the front, opened it, and turned beet red, laughing so hard she started to cry.  I must have been looking at her like I wanted to know what the **** was wrong with her, because she handed the card over, already open.  The words read just as she had said it:

"Yes! Oh, YES!"


Kathryn also became my first lost love, the first ( and thankfully last ) girl I ever stalked, the first girl ( and so far the last ) that I forgave for having sex with someone else while we were seeing each other exclusively ( I had her introduce me to him, without telling him who I was.  He found out later, and thought I was the coolest person. ), the first girl that I had sex with while she saw someone else ( the ties of attraction were so strong between us that we had a very hard time breaking it off permanently ) the first unprotected sex ( I had an interesting visual image with that one, too ), the first ( and possibly only ) girl that almost destroyed me when we broke up.**  I suppose it all made sense, as she was the first girlfriend's best friend that I ever left my girlfriend for.

( The girlfriend I left would end up being my second, in a very surprising random act of fortune. )


Years later, I would swear that I saw Kathryn drive up into the parking lot of the plant where I was working as a security guard.  I wanted to call out to her, but I didn't.  The trucker I checked out said she had a beautiful "next door beauty" about her.  I told him that she looked like someone I knew long ago.  I find tonight, that I regret that I didn't call out to her.  But something had happened between us.  She had told me over the phone that we had nothing in common, despite the fact that I had thought that we had a lot in common.  And I couldn't remember when she told me that.  So I watched her drive away instead, whoever she was, completely oblivious to my presence, or the fact that she had gone the wrong way to get out of the parking lot.


** The divorce that I experienced two years ago was also painful, but it wasn't destructive to me like the dissolution of Kathryn and I was.

zenandi zenandi
31-35, M
1 Response Mar 1, 2010

Love your writing style! You made me laugh more than once reading your account of firsts and I hope you'll add me as I am looking forward to reading more by you!