slemslempike (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slemslempike) wrote2004-10-31 05:41 pm
slemslempike) wrote2004-10-31 05:41 pm
Fall back
This time of year always makes make me think about the night I lost my virginity. Because it was the night the clocks went back. My parents were away (which is how I came to have sex) so no-one changed the time in my house, and I arrived at work an hour early, meaning I left bed an hour early, which annoyed me all day.
We broke the bed. Well, he did. In the morning he got up to get me breakfast (awww) and I took the opportunity to spread out and grab all the covers. So he came back and jumped on me, breaking the frame of the bed, rather killing the mood. I was blase about it, but he was convinced that my parents would return, think that the bed had been broken while he was deflowering me, and turn up on his doorstep with pitchforks. So he mended it with duct tape. I did point out that my parents would notice the addition of thick black tape to the wooden frame, but he insisted. Wasn't even broken during a fun part.
Not that it was a great deal of fun. It wasn't painful or anything, but the most telling moment is just after, when he said to me "you looked bored". I don't think I was bored exactly. A little underwhelmed, perhaps, and contemplative. "So, this is sex. Huh. What should I be doing? Am I moving enough? Too much?" and trying not to show my thoughts in my face apparently led to me looking bored. This is why I dislike the missionary position, I have more than enough to think about without worrying about the message my facial contortions convey. From behind, thank you, and then I can gurn away to my heart's content.
It was a strange relationship. We'd actually been talking about sex earlier that day, and he'd asked if I felt pressured. I said no, but I would rather wait a little. At the time I meant more than a few hours, but I was pretty happy that it turned out that way. I absolutely adored him, but I was very conscious that to let him know this would be counter-productive, so I tended not to tell him anything about how I felt. Clever, no? Anyway, the 'relationship' lasted about a week or so after the sex, and a month or so after that he stopped talking to me. Flat out ignored me if we ever bumped into each other. And I found out a while later that a few days after we slept together he told my best friend he was in love with her. Brilliant!
I remember that he gave great massages, and was very intense and pseudo-anarchist in the way that seventeen year olds are. He played guitar, and introduced me to Sonic Youth, L7 and Dinosaur Jr, for which I will be forever grateful. I occasionally wish that I would meet him again. He broke my heart completely, but I would like him to know that I got a bit better at sex.
We broke the bed. Well, he did. In the morning he got up to get me breakfast (awww) and I took the opportunity to spread out and grab all the covers. So he came back and jumped on me, breaking the frame of the bed, rather killing the mood. I was blase about it, but he was convinced that my parents would return, think that the bed had been broken while he was deflowering me, and turn up on his doorstep with pitchforks. So he mended it with duct tape. I did point out that my parents would notice the addition of thick black tape to the wooden frame, but he insisted. Wasn't even broken during a fun part.
Not that it was a great deal of fun. It wasn't painful or anything, but the most telling moment is just after, when he said to me "you looked bored". I don't think I was bored exactly. A little underwhelmed, perhaps, and contemplative. "So, this is sex. Huh. What should I be doing? Am I moving enough? Too much?" and trying not to show my thoughts in my face apparently led to me looking bored. This is why I dislike the missionary position, I have more than enough to think about without worrying about the message my facial contortions convey. From behind, thank you, and then I can gurn away to my heart's content.
It was a strange relationship. We'd actually been talking about sex earlier that day, and he'd asked if I felt pressured. I said no, but I would rather wait a little. At the time I meant more than a few hours, but I was pretty happy that it turned out that way. I absolutely adored him, but I was very conscious that to let him know this would be counter-productive, so I tended not to tell him anything about how I felt. Clever, no? Anyway, the 'relationship' lasted about a week or so after the sex, and a month or so after that he stopped talking to me. Flat out ignored me if we ever bumped into each other. And I found out a while later that a few days after we slept together he told my best friend he was in love with her. Brilliant!
I remember that he gave great massages, and was very intense and pseudo-anarchist in the way that seventeen year olds are. He played guitar, and introduced me to Sonic Youth, L7 and Dinosaur Jr, for which I will be forever grateful. I occasionally wish that I would meet him again. He broke my heart completely, but I would like him to know that I got a bit better at sex.
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My husband and I (she sa regally) managed to break our marital bed, which is cast iron, and he made me take it to the foundry to get it welded - v embarrassing. And it wasn't broken doing anyhting interesting either - just overloaded by children with nightmares etc.
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I think it wouldn't be nearly as annoying if things got broken during great sex. At least the memories would keep you happy during the inconvenience.
Bed-breaker
I hope when I lose my virginity--and I hope I do, sooner rather than later >:0--I don't give that cold shoulder you mentioned; sometimes I hear that it's instinctive, but my friends that have done it have all been in serious relationships, which have managed to last far past the inaugural screwing.
I could care less about whether I lose my virginity now, but DAMN, I'd like to have a girlfriend, and it's just not happening: I go to a school with a dearth of females, so the few in attendance have an inflated sense of their own "level"(remember hearing that word back in you teen years?), or are the type with awesome personalities but a fear of boys. The irony is that I went to this highschool because I thought I wouldn't fit in at any of the others.
AAAAAAAAAARGHTEENAGESEXUALFRUSTRATIONNNNNNGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!
Re: Bed-breaker
I'm pretty sure the cold shoulder was a him-thing rather than a sex-thing. He had previously done something similar to a friend of mine, so I should have been aware, but was blinded by lust. Most of my friends had very reasonable friendships with the guys they first slept with, even ifit was just a one-off.
Sympathies with the frustration. Can't say it gets any easier!
Re: Bed-breaker
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The love life of a bisexual co-ed has never been so sad.
Aw! ;)
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http://incelsite.com/
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But, with few exceptions, they were pretty rubbish too. So perhaps we can all take it as read.
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oh well. it's a good job i'm a quicker learner in other areas...
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