Love & Sex

My First Time: Male, 21, Jerusalem

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Male • 21 • Jerusalem

I was that smart/dorky kid in high school — never could get up the nerve to ask someone out. When I finally did go out on my first date at the age of eighteen, I couldn't find the courage to even kiss her goodbye. It took three more years until I had my first kiss.

“I was a combat soldier on my way back to base from a twenty-four-hour leave….”

We met on the train. I was a combat soldier on my way back to base from a twenty-four-hour leave, and she was on her way to work. We talked for a short while. Again, I lacked the nerve to even ask for her number. Luckily, the next time I took the train, she was there again. We talked for longer this time, and when I got home, she friended me on Facebook.

We went out on a date that week — Belgian waffles and a walk downtown. I got so nervous I waved goodbye to her. The next time, we met at a botanical garden. It was cherry-blossom week. I think it was even Valentine's Day, actually, but nether of us mentioned it. As I got ready to cross the street after another kissless date, she took charge and kissed me goodbye. I almost ran away from confusion, but I'm glad I didn't.

After that, we talked every day on the phone. A month after we met I told her on the phone that I loved her, and I think I really did, too. I still remember the sound of her voice melting on the end of the line. We were that couple you see on trains and buses around town, kissing and cuddling for the whole ride. But I didn't mind; this was all new to me and I enjoyed every little piece of it.

A few weeks after I got used to the kissing and petting, we went over to her parents' place. They were out of the country. We were playing around and she told me she usually didn't go all the way so soon in a relationship. She wanted me to know that she wasn't "a whore or something." I told her she wasn't one, but I didn't mention that she would be my first.

I was smiling the whole time and that made her laugh at me, but I didn't mind. She had a huge mirror in her room, so I could see her backside and myself under her. I told myself to remember that image, so I could remember how I felt that night. Afterwards we took a shower together (another first for me), went to bed, and ended up doing it again. I was really proud of myself that night.

She was my first kiss, first second and third base, and my first home-run, and she never even knew it. We broke up a month later. I knew then we weren't meant to last — we were too different — but it took her longer to realize that too. Luckily, she wasn't my last either. I am still shy as hell, but I manage to get around. But thinking of her face laughing at my smiling still brings back good memories.