Losing it

This picture speaks volumes. Loud, horrible, disgusting volumes.

This picture is horrible.  I mean, yeah, it is honestly bad.  I have no idea who this guy is, but wow, who took the picture?  Was the camera on delay?  This is worse than dirty mirror duckface photos.

So I find that I do my writing on my days off when my attention is not focused elsewhere.  Picking up where I had left off, it occurred to me that the next big moment in my story is when I lost my virginity.  And wow, is the story humbling.  So humbling that I have decided, probably against my best judgement, to share it.  So here goes…

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I dated a few different girls for the remainder of the year and into the next.  None really worth mentioning, and no offense to those ladies but it was like a buffet.  You try a piece of food; if it’s worthwhile you go back to it or stick to it.  These ladies, while I’m sure great in their own individual way, were some samples at the buffet that I had zero fondness for.    So I dabbled here, I dabbled there, basically pushing the envelope to see how far I could go before being shot down.  And then, during homeroom one day, I met Lauralei.

Lauralei was definitely cute, and if there is one thing I am a huge fan of it’s when a women fumbles around with her words when I get to being ridiculous.  Nearly 13 years later, I still enjoy flabbergasting a woman by being humorous or just plain out there.  Why?  I believe it shows the other party is paying attention, something that does not occur much in our society any longer.  I do not mean to go on rant, but I am noticing how people are so self-consumed and so self-important that actually listening to another individual is nearly impossible.  But then again, how big of a hypocrite am I to say this while writing a story about myself?  Anyhow, Lauralei would just listen to me ramble about whatever ridiculous things I would say to draw more attention to myself (clearly not much has changed about me in that manner) and laugh at all the appropriate times.  So, did I like her for her or did I like her for me?  Well, yes.

Dating Lauralei wasn’t easy, and I do not mean by hardships in the relationship, but simply by spending time with her outside of school.  At this time, I was eighteen and still without my driver’s license.  I didn’t feel the need to have one as I was chauffeured everywhere by my mother or my friends.  Granted, this sounds as though I was using them, and retrospectively I probably was (no definitive here), but genuinely I was completely uninterested in getting my license.  I was living at one extreme end of our town, Lauralei on the other.  The first time I went to Lauralei’s house, my eyes opened up to what occurs when parental supervision is not present.  Current parents, I would recommend setting up hidden cameras in your homes, as what I am about to disclose is awfully revealing.

Lauralei’s favorite movie, at the time, was Waterworld.  This was a movie starring Kevin Costner that was not that great, at least in the author’s most humble of opinions.  The reason I make mention of this was because Lauralei was the first to perform the act of fellatio on me.  And like the movie Waterworld, it contained a vast amount of liquid and was equally horrible.  So bad that I had secretly nicknamed the act a “slobberjob,” as that was all that was happening.  Bless her heart, she tried, but I was never impressed, though this was also my first, so at the time I thought that that was simply how it was done.

One afternoon, Lauralei and her friend came to my home.  A friend of mine was over and he and I were in charge of watching my little brother and sister at the time, as my parents were away.  Lauralei, her friend, my friend, and I were all in the living room when I sent my little brother and sister outside to play.  When the two little ones (I believe they were 10 and 11 years old at the time) were outside, I nudged my friend to run interference on Lauralei’s friend as I took her into my bedroom.

The rest is pretty uneventful.  For the sake of the story, I will continue, but I feel it necessary to say that what follows occurred in such a short time span that I am probably exaggerating the event by using words that are longer than two syllables.  I shut the bedroom door when the two of us were inside, and near immediately Lauralei dropped her jeans and underwear to the floor.  What I have learned from then until now is that when a woman shaves, you know, down there, it is often a sign that they know what is coming and they are prepared.  Now this might simply be my perspective and I may be completely off, but I believe this to be true.  There are more details on this later, or examples for that matter, but I, to this day, still firmly believe that what I had just stated to be factual.  Anyhow, Lauralei was now nude from the waist down and I was trembling like Michael J. Fox sitting on a paint mixer (I feel that joke may be too soon).  I can’t recall if I had the condom in my wallet or in my dresser, but I carefully opened the package to remove the condom.

Now, a break in the story to talk about condom application.  Apparently there is a right side and a wrong side to a condom, correct?  Are both sides the same so it doesn’t matter?  Seriously, I think condoms need instruction manuals.  You’re supposed to hold the tip and then roll it down.  That’s easy to say, near impossible to do, especially when it comes to your first time.  I should have been practicing, thinking back, but I fumbled and fumbled and fumbled and I’m sure nothing says sexy like messing with a condom.  Much like asking for a woman to remove her own bra.  It’s a miracle I’ve ever had sex, now that I think about it.  Finally the condom was on, and I started thinking back to how much more convenient it would be if the vagina were located on top of the pelvis instead of its actual location, because I had no idea how I was going to make this happen.  I started questioning myself, does she spread her legs or do I spread mine?  I’m assuming missionary is the way to go, right?  I wonder if my breath smells (I still worry about this last question to this day, so if any future lady I may have intercourse with is reading this, that puzzled look is probably either “did I leave the oven on?” or “can she smell my lunch?”  Don’t worry yourself about either, I never bake and if you can smell my lunch I’ll do my best to not belch during the deed, though no promises there, as you’ll learn later).  Finally, I managed to do what I had been struggling with for the past few minutes, and just as soon as I had made contact, I had finished.  I think this might be due to the exhilaration of entering into the “club” that teenaged boys are so very proud of.  At least, I was.  And like the self-absorbed jerk I was, I was so happy that I failed to see the utter disappointment I had left her with.  But that’s another thing that hasn’t changed about me either, so I guess I am still the same old person!