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| Martina Navritalova, tennis player |
Who Needs This? |
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I was a high school junior, in a city full of young men. One of them was a friend from my hometown, four years older than I, an architectural student in Prague. We used to play tennis together all the time.
I was sixteen, and when I came back from the States, he started taking a different kind of interest in me. I think I had more confidence in myself, felt more feminine, because I was softening up. My cheeks were all puffed out, but I thought it was good because I didn't look like a boy anymore.
I was a little hesitant about going to this boy's apartment for what we both knew would be My First Time, but we kept planning it and it got built up in my mind, and one weekend while his parents were away, we kept our appointment. I was so scared.
I kept telling myself, He's been with other women, he knows what he's doing — relax, trust him. But when we got down to it, there were no bells, no stars, no flashing lights, no colors, and not a lot of affection or skill, either. I hadn't realized how painful it could be. I kept thinking: Who needs this? It hurts too much.
Making love shouldn't be painful once you get used to it, but I never got to that point with him. My first sex with him was painful, very painful. At the time, it was something I could have done without. (Prague, 1973)
from Martina by Martina Navritalova, with George Vecsey (Knopf, ©1985)
© 2000 Nerve.com, Inc.
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