This story is gonna be short becuase I'd like to keep it that way. I used to... talk? see?...something with this guy some years ago. One day, in the midst of all that ambiguousness, I met him at his place to hang out. I don't remember what we were doing earlier that day and I can't tell you what led up to the sex. But I DO remember that there was NO type of foreplay. At all. I know that every time doesn't have to include foreplay, but we weren't in a rush so I could have gotten something rubbed or touched or SOMETHING. Anyway, clothes come off and we get to it. Only I'm the one getting to anything! He's just laying there. I think I'm working it out, tossing my hair and whatnot (I had straight hair at the time) and he's laying there. Chillin I guess. So I have a decision to make. I opt to switch up the positioning I'm trying to transition gracefully, but dude is absolutely not moving with me. I KNOW he knew that I was trying to switch up the flow. At this point my interest, libido, and drive all jump out his apartment window and I'm over it. Meanwhile, he's STILL chillin?!??! I promptly ended whatever that was, gathered my stuff, and left for the "meeting I had to get to". That relationship did not flourish (for many reasons) and needless to say, neither did any other sexual contact. Sigh.
I would wish my first time on anyone. Yes, you read that correctly. If there was a virginity store where one could choose how his or her first time would play out, I would want my experience on the shelf as an option. You know, there's something to be said about making your own decisions with a clear mind and no pressure. I waited to have sex because I felt like waiting- no other reasons, no other logic. I was 22 when I did decide and was in a relationship. We had discussions about everything- expectations, condoms, logisitics (lol), and the like. Being someone who think a lot, I had to make sure I covered all bases. I'm pretty sure he felt some kind of way about being the one "responsible" for this experience.
I can't say that it happened in the most romantic of places... unless dorm rooms are romantic. I mean, you can make any place romantic if you want to. It was night and the playlist I intensely labored over for hours was probably playing. I don't remember feeling nervous or anything, but I know I wanted it to be right, whatever that means. Knowing me, I was telling myself to "be sexy" as not to scare the man off! I didn't, in the least bit, know what the flip I was doing. Going with the flow made the whole experience great because I didn't stress myself out with anticipation. And how did I end up? Pleasantly pleased, thank you very much.
I must say that I am thankful that he was careful and gentle with me. He truly made me feel comfortable and wanted and loved. I'm glad I waited, I'm glad that we TALKED, and most importantly, I'm glad that it was my choice.
My first kiss probably should have been an episode of "The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl". A very short episode. I was 17 and had just started to date. Before that, it was just chillin with my homegirls and maybe hanging out with this group of guys that we were cool with. Well, I happened to click with one of the guys from that and we started "talking". We went out to eat one night and a good time. On the way back to my parents' house, he offered me a peppermint. I shoulda known something was up. He had some gentleman qualities, so he walked me to the back door. So we were in garage, standing there, doing the " date is over and there's nothing left to talk about, so let's look and smile at each other nervously until one of us does something" thing. Now, imagine this next part in slow motion because that's how it felt to me. He leans in for the kiss and I'm trying to decide whether to stop him, run, or go for it. Too late. There are lips AND tongue on my face. I tried to reciprocate what he did buuuut, I'm pretty sure that just made it even more awkward. It felt like the longest kiss ever (not that I had anything to compare it to). I can only imagine how my face looked... I'm thinking a combo of confusion, terror, and embarrassment. A hot mess. I mumbled thanks and QUICKLY made my exit into the house. He did call again though. Either he had low standards, or it wasn't that bad. I'm going with low standards.
Sexy people rock.