The First Love
I wasn’t too keen with the idea of him as my first boyfriend, but he was charmingly persistent, and completely harmless, so I went with it. However, after a few months of amateur hand jobs and ineffective oral sex, I got bored and we stopped talking. Then, as graduation approached (he was a senior in high school, and I a junior) I realized just how badly I would miss him. In that moment, I found that I actually really loved him. Alas, we were together again, and that summer we lost our virginities to each other and grew oh-so-close. It hurt immensely when he left for college, but what was more damaging was our inability to define things. And so the next year was some sort of painful limbo in which we’d sheepishly experience others, but keep coming back to each other with guilt. We now attend the same college (coincidentally), but aren’t close at all. We hang out randomly and have hooked up a handful of times, but he’s an entirely different person. I don’t love him anymore.
He was half-Austrian, half-Puerto Rican, and cute in a unique way. He and I actually had a brief fling long before “my first love,” but it was just some innocent messing around. He seeped back into my life a few months after my senior year began, and though I was at first hesitant to get involved, I thought it might be better to have a distraction from my sadness. And for a slice of time, it was better than being sad. We had sex twice, all due to my own cravings; he never pressured me even slightly. But he was perpetually stoned and a wannabe rapper, and ultimately that turned me off. So I let it fade.
The Sensual Singer
Senior year was almost over. He was a grade below me and always had been since as long as I’d remembered, but only now was he starting to catch my eye. As we both enjoyed creating music, we used that as an excuse to hang out. Eventually one thing led to another and when he asked me if I would take his virginity, I said I would. It was good. But we only did it that once. Soon after I lost interest when I discovered just how self-absorbed he really was — he looked at himself in the mirror more than he looked at me. We still talk, though, and whenever I see him he kisses me on the lips.
The First Crush
This was the first sexual experience I would ever regret. It was about a week before I was to leave for college, and my friend was having a party. I drank way too much and ended up having awful drunk sex with the boy who was ironically my first crush back in the fifth grade (though that crush had long since worn off). Fortunately, there was no resulting weird tension or anything. In fact, I just ran into him the other day and it was a great exchange. Except that I realized I’m about two inches taller than him.
The Physics Cowboy
After my first regrettable sexual experience, I thought I should abstain for a while and take sex more seriously, especially going into college where many potentially harmful things could happen. But no, I guess I hadn’t learned my lesson well enough. I met this guy my third night when I was leaving his frat house. He told me to stay and help him with “security.” He was funny, super smart (a physics major), and talked like a cowboy despite being from southern California. He kissed me unexpectedly that night, and we stayed in touch after. About a month and a half later, he invited himself over late one Friday night, and we were both more-than-slightly inebriated. When he tried to take off my underwear, I said, “Why the hell not?” (though in the morning I’d be asking myself “why?”). Literally two seconds later, he was finished. I didn’t mind, and we fell asleep together on my tiny bed. We still talk sometimes, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen again.
The Jewish Pretty Boy
He was from Israel, wore name-brand clothing, and worried way too much about being successful. I made him speak Hebrew often because one, it turned me on like nothing else, and two, I couldn’t stand his complaining so long as I understood the language it was in. My sexual experience with him was not ideal, however. I’d only known him a few days when we first had sex. He accompanied me to a party where I consumed five times the amount of alcohol he did. Once I got to the point of sickness and sketchy brain function, he took me back to my room where we proceeded to have unprotected sex that I really don’t remember, as well as butt sex that I really don’t remember. (It would be the next morning when I figured it out.) I had sex with him two more times after that (no more butts, however). I ended our purely sexual relationship when I realized that it was purely sexual, and that the sex wasn’t even good.
I was home for winter break, hanging out with some old high school friends. Of these friends was one boy in particular whom I’d always had the hots for in high school, and quite frankly, still do. To create a mental image, he was, as described by my very own mother, some sort of “Adonis.” Big, beautiful, and very smart. I jumped on the fact that he was single at this point, because he never was in high school, and asked him to accompany me to the beach a few days later. He happily obliged. At the beach, I anxiously worked up the nerve to kiss him, and then bang. Our physical connection was out of this world. The following night we had some very fun sex, although it was short-lived due to my inability to withstand his rather large size for more than just a few minutes.
The First Lust
We met during first semester when he approached me in the dining halls and told me I looked like Natalie Portman. I just laughed because here was goofy old me, toasting bread, getting hit on by one of the gorgeous Australian rowers, and quite frankly, I didn’t know what to say. We continued to run into each other after that, but it wasn’t until one night a few months later that he randomly came up to me at a party and asked for my number.
Following that night, we hung out over the next two weeks, and I was trying my best to hold out on sex. Though I liked him a lot, I was weary because of his reputation as a “pussy-slayer,” and I didn’t think I’d be okay with just a one-time thing with him. Naturally, he got bored and when he realized I wouldn’t sleep with him, he stopped coming around. But not completely. Leading up to winter break, I would get texts more and more often from him, and when I told him to stop because he was confusing me, he marched right on over to my place and told me he wanted to be with me. This was the week before break, so I told him I’d think about it and get back to him in a month.
Being the smitten fool I was, I decided to roll with it; I mean, how bad could it be if I was already prepared for potential troubles? So it began in early January, we fucked by the end of the month, and I ended it all by mid-March due to emotional fatigue. We still talked a bit after that, but didn’t hang out again until the week before summer vacation. I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I went over anyway, you know, to “say bye.” Our goodbye was in the form of sex (surprise!) which was, in fact, the best I’ve yet to experience. And then I went home. And I’m still not over him.
We met within the first week of college, and our friendship escalated quickly. Right when I thought something else might bloom between us, I found out he’d had sex with one of my other friends who I’d introduced to him the previous week — a friend I’d actually informed of our potential romance. But they did it anyway, and continued to have this crazy, dramatic, talk-shit-all-the-time-about-each-other friends-with-benefits sort of relationship that the rest of the friend group was completely aware of. She and I drifted apart, but he and I remained close, especially after things finally ended between them. He then heavily urged me to get rid of “First Lust,” and even made a move while I was still with him.
When I did end things, he was right there. About a month later, we had sex. Although sex with him never lasted more than two minutes tops, it always felt like the most caring, loving kind of sex. I really let myself fall into him, maybe because we were already so close, or maybe because I was trying hard to get over “First Lust.” Ultimately, I ended it with him when I found out he’d still been sleeping with the former girl when he told me he hadn’t been. Now they’re back together, and the best part is, I’m sharing a house with him next semester. It’s great.
He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever known, and I’d kind of known him my whole life. Vaguely, through mutual friends. He was two years ahead of me and I hadn’t seen him since he’d graduated. Well, come three years later, I found myself having a wild threesome with him and my best girl friend one night during the first week of summer. She and I were drunk, he was not, and the next morning, he couldn’t have been more awkward. It was completely disappointing to find that Mr. Perfect was such a hitter and quitter. But then again, I tend to be naïve in the first place.