5.

Write about the time you lost your virginity.

Hannah:

I remember not having too much thought about it, actually. In retrospect, I think I was a little bit crazy. Maybe it was how it was supposed to happen. Maybe it was the intoxication. Maybe it was just the way my life was going then.

In any case, right now, I don’t think maybes really matter.

But let me tell you from the beginning.

I met him…at a party. A party I wasn’t supposed to go to. I’d lied to my parents about going to SD for the weekend with the music label I interned for. In truth, I was gonna stay at my friends' house and party with them.

Yeah, I know.

Anyway, I had no idea about who he was. Haven’t even heard of him prior to that night. But, he was friends with my friends and that’s why he was there.

I remember when he first walked in the house, I kept wanting to get another look at him. I’m the queen of nonchalance but I think I kind of betrayed my reputation in that hour I tried to act uninterested in anyone but my friends.

Then the intoxication kicked in and somehow I ended up next to him on the couch. I don’t know who initiated it, but we started to kiss and then BAM! A night-long makeout session ensued. I bit and nibbled at him and kissed him more than I have ever kissed anyone in my life. Me and him were practically glued together that night—I don’t think we ever broke away from each other except when we had to use the restroom. I couldn’t keep my hands off him and he drove me crazy with his touch.

He asked for my BBM pin and we exchanged contact information—in my head I highly doubted that we’d even talk after that party. Him and I would just be forgotten strangers among the many names in each other’s phones. But, what the heck. Ain’t no harm in it.

Fast-forward three weeks from then and you have us in my roommate’s room, making out on the bed.

She was out of town for the week and I had just moved in the same house he and I had met in. I was out in the living room at the time but she let me stay in her room while she was gone. Fine by me.

I remember feeling his hardness through his jeans on my thigh as we were making out with him on top of me. I don’t know what made me say it, but I whispered, “You can do it, if you want.”

I say I must have been crazy because 1) I’ve never made out with a stranger before I made out with him at that party. That was something I never even dreamed of doing. 2) I’ve never letanyone touch me in the way he did. Ever. Not even my one ex-boyfriend touched me in such a fashion when we were together. I’ve always made it a point to keep my distance from men. And 3) he wasn’t even my boyfriend—we weren’t really even dating and I totally just gave him permission to deflower me. I’ve always set this personal standard where I wouldn’t have sex with whoever I was with until after a year had passed. And in just a moment I totally said the words that contradicted my own logic.

I mean, it’s not that I cared at all for my virginity. I never regarded it so highly, never thought to abstain until vows were exchanged, and I didn’t abhor premarital sex. Virginity wasn’t all that important to me. I just couldn’t stand the thought of wasting my time on someone unworthy of opening up to. Pun intended.

But there I was. Moving a little too fast and a little too sudden with someone I had no real clue about.

I remember he kept asking me if I was sure. He was a bit hesitant and kept…asking.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

There I went again. Did I mean it? I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking then.

And then it’s all a blur. Pants came off, along with boxers and panties. An awkward moment of silence. The smell of latex and lube. Then pain.

It wasn’t as horrifying as every girl around me made it seem. Although it hurt, it didn’t hurtthat much; I didn’t feel like my insides were being torn. But then again, I have a high tolerance to pain (which explains my biting fetish). It was bearable.

I remember lying there feeling a little awkward at the lack of pleasure I was feeling (so, were all those pornstars faking it or does pleasure come after the first few times you fuck?). I remember feeling so foreign and detached after he was done. Yes, I bled, but the sheets weren’t drenched in blood like every girl around me made me imagine.

After cleaning up, we sat on the bed and went about as if nothing really happened. As if he didn’t just pump himself inside me and as if I didn’t just hand him my v-card.

I didn’t feel any strong attachment to him. I didn’t feel like he had to hand me a ring and give me his last name. I didn’t feel like I fell in love. I didn’t feel any different, I felt the same. Except a little sore between my legs.

But I laughed a lot easier with him after that.

Jonathan:

Kiss.

Remove clothing.

Insertion.

I’m supposed to write about my first time.

Kiss.

Remove clothing.

Insertion.

The point being is to let you in, reveal how I felt and how I feel about it now. But this is what I remember about it.

Kiss.

Remove clothing.

Insertion.

It wasn’t special. It wasn’t horrible.

Kiss.

Remove clothing.

Insertion.

No fireworks or anything. Just jittery nerves.

Kiss.

Saliva.

Remove clothing.

Confusion.

Insertion.

Disappointment.

Kiss.

Remove clothing.

Insertion.

I’m not bitter about it. I don’t regret anything. All I’m saying is that yeah, it meant a lot to me then. But now, all I want to remember about it is

Kiss.

Remove clothing.

Insertion.