My First Time

Every one likes to think back on their first time fondly, but honestly I just wanted to get it over with.

Sex isn't something my family was ever comfortable talking about. My grandmother used to throw herself over every romance novel I caught her reading just in case I caught a glimpse of a sex scene. My mother would launch herself in front of the tv if a sex scene came on, right up until I was 16.

My family is all baptized, except for me. I wasn't allowed to since I was born out of wedlock. They are all strict Catholics, but they never forced me to go to church with them, although after I was born they didn't really go anymore. When I was a kid, I was just happy to not sit through five hours of worship, but as an adult I think it was because everyone always stared at me since I was the only bastard in there.

I digress, obviously even acknowledging sex was a big no-no in our house.

My grandmother maintained the stork story till I was 14.

I mean, they are full on Catholic. No metal music, no R rated movies, and absolutely no sex before marriage. Which I found hilarious when my grandmother said that to me when I pointed out my mother, her oldest child, was born 7 months after she married my grandfather.

She smacked me upside the head and told me to shut up.

Yeah, spanking was never out of the question. Neither was slapping me in the face but that's a whole other article.

So, fast forward to me. A rebellious 17 year old with a job of my own and a boyfriend who absolutely no one in my family liked. My grandfather had softened, he had married into a Catholic family and wasn't very religious himself. He gave me a job working for him as an assistant to the family business, which included travel and managing people 3 times my age. It paid well and I spent that money on black eyeliner and ripped jeans and lace bras and metal band t-shirts.

I was dating a techy dork who wasn't much to look at but he wasn't a virgin and a few months older than me and that was what I wanted. He didn't go to my school and was already in college, having skipped a grade. I picked him specifically because he wasn't part of my every day life. I saw him a few times a month and that was enough for me. We had sex after dating for about 6 months and to be perfectly frank, it was dreadful.

Round 1:

We were in his room, in bed and he couldn't put it in.

Apparently my vagina was "in an awkward position"? I didn't know what that meant then and I still have no clue what it means and it's been ten years since it's happened.

He tried to tell me that we should just do anal since it's "the same thing" but I said no.

After 20 minutes he huffed and gave up and left me to lock himself in the bathroom and bawl about how he failed.

*SIGH*

I got dressed and left.

Round 2:

A week later, we were at a park and the mood overtook us (I wanted to get it over with) and we tried again. This time I was on all fours and he was behind me. I figured if we were at a different angle that it might help.

I was wrong.

So very wrong.

Because after a minute of trying to put it in my vagina, he tried to talk me into anal again.

For f*cks sake.

*SIIIIIGH*

I yanked my pants up and left him there.

Round 3:

Two weeks later, we were at my house, all alone and decided to try again.

I laid on my back and basically told him to take me.

I promise I was more enthusiastic than I sound right now.

And the stars aligned just right and I lost my virginity.

F*CKING FINALLY.

After three wildly desperate attempts, it was gone.

Don't get me wrong, I was mildly conflicted about the fact that the guy I lost it to I wasn't attracted to completely or in love with. Truth be told, I didn't like him very much either.

I was 17 and I was the last of my friends to lose it. Not that they pressured me into it, but I knew that if I didn't lose it then, I might be a 24 year old virgin and I did not want that.

I wanted the experience.

I wanted to see what it was like.

It wasn't so much as joining my friends in their own sex talks or rebelling against my family and their archaic ways; I just had a very unhappy High School career.

I was never invited to any parties. Never a top student. Hardly ever dated. I was the wallflower in middle school and unfortunately my school was 6th through 12th so everyone who knew me as the awkward brace face 6th grader carried every joke and humiliating moment through my Senior year of High School. At one dance, a guy I had a crush on asked me to dance. I was so happy, and I thought that things were finally turning around.

But then after the song ended, he took off and ran into his group of friends who each gave him five bucks.

They bet him that he couldn't bear to dance with me to one song.

I was distraught.

I ran into the bathroom and cried and my best friend back then, came in and told me I should have expected it since he was out of my league anyway.

We were not friends after that.

I just wanted one High School experience, and sex was the only thing left at that point for me. I was about to graduate and I was determined to have one thing happen for me.

And it did.

The guy actually proposed to me after my graduation party. He had his grandmothers ring, and she LOVED me.

I said no and we broke up.

He was so mad at me but I was pretty indifferent.

I was terrified when my family found out. My mother was furious at me when she found out I had sex and sent me away to live with my grandparents for two weeks. When they found out, Jesus H Christ, I was surprised they didn't have a priest come over for dinner. My grandmother gave me a rosary and told me to pray.

My aunt, who was married with two kids at the time was so mad at me. And because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, I reminded her that she was pregnant with her first born when she got married.

She slapped me so hard across the face I had a bruise for a week. Of course no one cared because I "deserved worse for knowing a man, in a biblical way".

I was so angry at my family. I didn't fit their mold and they were just so willing to throw me aside because I had sex.

My grandfather took me out of town for a job and he was not a talker, he didn't talk about feelings. It wasn't that he was cold, he was just raised by a hardcore Navy Recruiter who was so abusive mentally and physically that showing any vulnerability meant potentially getting a scar that could last the rest of your life.

So, while we were eating at some Denny's in New Mexico, he looked at me and I sighed internally and prepared myself for whatever chastisement I was about to get.

But then he surprised me.

"Grandma said you were different now." He said as he took a bite out of a stack of pancakes.

"I'm sure she did." I said in a monotone voice.

"I don't think so." He said. "You look the same to me."

"So, she told you what I did?" I was very confused.

"Yes." He nodded slowly.

"And you're not mad?" I asked slowly.

"Are you mad about what happened?" He took another bite.

"No, I'm mad at my family for treating me like damaged goods but I don't regret what I did." I said sternly. I had been fighting with everyone for weeks about what went on between my legs and I was sick of it.

"Yeah, they're being assholes." He said nonchalantly.

I spit out my coffee all over the floor next to the booth.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" He smirked, his eyes twinkling. "It's stupid, they're way of thinking. In this day and age, you're presenting your independence from their way of thinking and that scares them because they were raised with only one way of living, they weren't given another option. You grew up with an option, and you've taken it. To live your own way, not by a way that is traditional to them. This is your tradition and there's nothing wrong with what you did."

My grandfather stunned me.

Here was a man who by all means was an unemotional, hard-working, Catholic, and traditional man telling me that me having sex outside of marriage was normal.

What in the fresh f*ckery was this?

I assumed it was a trap. But it wasn't.

He knew that I was growing up in a time completely different than his. He was aware that I was not going to fit the mold that everyone else was trying to force me into. And that it was okay for me to be different and original and independent in my own way.

While my first time having sex was a disaster, in every sense of the word, and extremely painful; it taught me something very valuable that I've carried with me ever since.

If you fuck someone, you ain't broken; you're the same as you were before. It's everyone else that tries to think it makes you different, but you are still you and no one has the power to make you feel bad about it unless you give it to them.