humor · mental health

14 Year Old Virgin

I don’t like sex. There, I said it. I would probably benefit from googling A-sexual people to learn why they feel the way they do. I want to know if we have anything in common, or if it’s something different. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like it. It’s not that I think it hurts or feels bad, I just think it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

For some messed up reason, the clique I was trying to blend in with Freshman year decided it was time to lose our virginity. Somehow a contest to see who could do it first began. I was so desperate to belong I decided I needed to do this too.

I thought I knew what sex was, but should have known I was in over my head when they were reading from Cosmo. I didn’t understand any words they were saying. I was under the impression sex was when two people got naked, and the man’s dingle touched the woman’s noonie. The concept of the dingle going inside anything wasn’t there at all.

You can see how terrifying these could be.

When they used the word “hard-on” (I don’t know how you spell it and google only wants to say erection) I could only hope the conversation lead to elaboration.

The best I got was a sarcastic, “Well, how could it work if it stayed soft?” Now I had even more questions.

The era of downloading music on Kazaa was still new and magical. The girl who started this whole thing (same girl that made me go to that hunting camp in It Always Comes Back to the Mothers) decided we should try to find some porn so we could see what it looked like. I encouraged the idea thinking this could be my last hope to keep my ignorance a secret.

** Time out – that friend is going to come up a lot in any story I tell involving high-school or the year after, so I’m going to have to name her. I’m just going to call her Sookie because I’ve had “fucking Sookie” stuck in my head for everything I’ve said about her. – Time in**

Back then, it took our short porn video all night to download. The next day we were able to watch it. Three curious 14 year old girls gathered around the screen and I think their minds were just as blown as mine. I know downloading porn seems like small potatoes today, but back then it was huge, we were pioneers.

We all watched, jaws successfully dropped, as a man and woman stripped in an elevator. Everything was quite graphic. When the woman grabbed the man’s floppy dingle, it started growing! It answered one question in the first 60 seconds. My hopes were high.

The man was kind enough to pick the woman up and put her against the wall so I would have a clear view of what came next. I almost screamed when he was rubbing his dingle on her noonie and it suddenly vanished. For a split second, I thought he stabbed it through her. Then I realized the noises she was making weren’t from pain. Overall, I was very lucky. I never want to know what I would have done my first time had it not been for this.

I was so desperate for peer approval, I won their stupid contest. At the mall, I found a short, skinny guy who didn’t look like a creeper. He went to a different school and therefore didn’t know who I was. I thought he was perfect.

At the time, I thought I was really smooth. As I look back now, I’m sure he talked to me because “Holy shit, why has this girl been following me for half an hour?” and not “Hey there’s that cute girl again, maybe it’s fate.” like I intended.

The only thing that matters is that I successfully found my first Topanga. I would sadly remain under the influence of Boy Meets World’s Life Guide well into Senior year.

After 4-5 weeks of what counted as dating at that age, we hatched a plan. One of the very few options for socializing were the public school’s softball fields. They were the only ones in town so that’s what each league had to use. Families would bring their kids to run around even when they didn’t know anyone who was playing.

Sookie’s mom dropped us off at the ball fields, and we waited for the Topanga. He had a drivers license which made things easier. As I walked to his car, things got real super fast. Until then it had felt the same as playing the floor is lava, it was just pretend. I could have puked as I got in the car, but I didn’t think changing my mind was an option now.

We were going to drive and park somewhere private. On tv, they always have some kind of specific make-out point. Where I lived, every other road you drove down was just as private. We didn’t need a dedicated place out there.

Everything started going bad to worse from the moment he parked. I had no idea how to proceed. Turns out he didn’t either, but he knew how it was theoretically done. When he proposed foreplay I didn’t know what he meant. When he wanted to do hand stuff, we did, but I found it incredibly uncomfortable. It was so awkward it took every ounce of willpower I had not to shake him off me and run for it. I think he could tell because my efforts toward him looked like I found a moldy banana peel and I was trying to get it to a trash can without touching it more than necessary.

In my defense, I now know he had a weird penis. To put it in a way you can understand: we had full intercourse penetration, it was my first time, and he didn’t pop my cherry. I really don’t know how to describe it, but as a 33yr old with more experience, I can assure you something was off. Maybe it just looked scrunched and wrinkled because he was so tiny, but it wasn’t diseased or anything.

When he asked if I wanted to do oral, I said yes. I didn’t know what it meant, but oral means mouth so I guessed it was another term for French kissing. I thought kissing would at least get his hands off me and I could stop touching the moldy banana peel.

It’s pretty obvious how that turned out. I’m sorry, but ew. How anyone finds pleasure in putting their mouth where urine comes from… I’m sorry I just think that’s going to stay beyond my comprehension ability.

I couldn’t stay still. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to give up. Unthankfully, (is that a word? It is now) he wanted me to return the favor. I finally found my voice. I don’t think I could have done it anymore than I could have flown out the window to escape, so it’s not like I had a choice.

My big lucky break: he brought a condom. I had no idea what that was either. We finally got down to business. It was extremely messy. I went to my happy place and waited for it to end.

When it was over he asked if I came. I didn’t know what that meant or which answer to choose. I hesitated too long trying to decide and he seemed disappointed.

I got dressed in a hurry and told him our ride was on the way to pick us up at the ballpark so we needed to haul ass. I already knew I never wanted to see him again, but I wasn’t brave enough to say that. I told myself I’d get out of there and dump him over the phone that night. It would be less awkward for both of us.

When we got to the ballpark I told him I couldn’t risk Sookie’s mom seeing us together and made him leave. As soon as he was gone I started to feel better and began the process of changing my unpleasant memories. I had won the contest where the only prize was having these two girls jealous of me for a day. I told them it was magical. All the lies they expected to hear.

That is when I realized I couldn’t ask one of them to pretend to be me and dump him over the phone. My lie would be exposed. Instead I ghosted him. I’m not proud it. It’s one of my most shameful memories, but if I keep letting myself change memories and forget the past, I won’t learn anything. Like how it took me 3 more years to learn the word orgasm.

These are the kind of things that define who we are on the inside. How do we treat other people for our own mistakes? Why are we so willing to throw another human under a speeding train just to avoid a few bruises? Why does admitting we might have been wrong about something feel like the end of the world?

It took longer to tell that one sex story than I expected. I’ll have to put more some other time, but this was my first indication sex might not be worth all the hype everyone gives it.

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