Perhaps You'll Forget You Forgot For Awhile

For some reason, the memory of when I nearly had sex for the first time detached itself from the dark recesses of my mind.  Not the time that I actually lost my virginity mind you.  That would come later.  So to speak.  The summer of 2000 was a strange one.  I am trying to remember if B and I had gotten back together before the end of school.  Not that we were officially back together.  No, that would wait until fall of 2001 for a variety of reasons.  Mostly because I was young and fairly stupid and didn't know what I wanted.  As it turned out, neither did she.  But this is not the time for recriminations slander.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  Yes, yes, we must have been together.  There was a handjob in the park on Graduation Day.  Or I think it was Graduation Day, it may have been later that summer.  I seem to be turning into a strange, perverted Dylan Thomas.

We skulked around in the shadows, neither of us wanted to admit to our parents what we were doing.  Late night 'coffee runs' when she'd get off work.  Sometimes there was coffee involved, or a milkshake, but mostly it was an excuse to fool around in the backseat of her car.  Her tiny little teal Saturn.  We had played around with hands and mouths and tongues, but we had never gone all the way.  She wanted it to be special and to be in a proper bed and to be when the time was right.  I can't say as I blamed her.  As we later found out, sex was practically impossible in that car.  At least for the heavier set couple.

Which brings us to August.  Her birthday was past.  We were both eighteen.  My family went away for the weekend, but I couldn't go because I had to work while they were away.  I suppose I could have gotten out of it if I wanted to, but then I would have had to go with my family.  Instead, there was an empty house and two curious and horny teenagers.  I was doubly nervous because of my house.  It was, and is, a hellhole.  The sort of clutter and mess that they do programs on The Learning Channel about.  But that didn't matter.  Because we were going to have sex.  On Friday, she came over.  We went into my room and sat on the bed.  And talked.  And kissed.  And fondled.  And...she gave me a blowjob.  It was a very nice blowjob as I recall, but it was hardly the sex I was hoping for.  That we both talked about.

On Saturday, B had to work during the afternoon so I went to a movie.  I went to Godzilla 2000, actually, with Jeremy, Elvin, and Sean.  Dear, dear Sean, who would be dead in October.  Perhaps Emily was there, but I don't recall.  It was great.  There were only a handful of us in the theatre and after about ten minutes, we just started making fun of the movie.  Very loudly.  In MST3K fashion.  This was not surprising.  We were all big fans of both Godzilla and MSTie.  I've scarcely had a better time at the movies.  But I knew that I was going to get lucky that night, so I opted out of going to dinner.  It was about 7 when I got home.  Not very late at all.  And there was a very angry message on the machine from B.  Not saying anything explicit, of course, but very angry.  I called her back and she refused to talk to me a couple of times.  Eventually I was able to get her to talk to me but she refused to come over.  Which was her prerogative.  Years later, when somehow the topic came up in conversation, she told me that mostly she was just angry with herself for not doing anything on Friday and she was taking it out on me.  And that's as good a reason not to have sex as I've heard.

Originally posted 13 Mar 09