My First Notch

2003-08-17 10:43 a.m.
so i was thinking of my first time this morning. i know there's a first for.. well, everything you've ever done in your life, but that one sticks out for a great many of us.

With good reason, I feel. Our entire purpose on this planet first and foremost is to replicate ourselves with the help of another. To mix and match as it were and plant the seeds to our future.

Second, as it's the most natural of acts, it's the most known by all levels - economic, social, etc - of people. No matter how rich, or intelligent, or athletic, or fit, or fat you are. We begin to figure out that strange area below the belt at a young age, and even if 'the talk' never reached our ears, we'd figure it out by a couple mature games of doctor.

Speaking of 'the talk', my father had it with me on a drunken ride home from the bar we always went to when I was 4. I loved that bar cuz they had a ms. pacman and the bartender always hooked it up for me. Being the kid in the bar may seem out there, but I grew up in one, even then. Quite literally - my mother owned a bar / restaurant (mostly bar) and I was best friends with half the regulars for as long as I could talk. So, having my father bring me to his spot when he found the time to take me in seemed completely natural.

So on that wonderful drive home, my father gave me the full explanation of the birds and the bees. But there were no birds and no bees. There was dad's dick and mom's pussy. The actual words were insane to me. Brand new, very dirty words. I got every detail as if it were 2 grown men explaining the process to each other. I don't remember the talk word for word, but I can see it in one of them lingering memories.

The next summer, my mother recieved a letter from the public school which housed my Kintergarden class. The letter requested I don't return for the first grade. I passed, just fine. But all the parents were appalled at this new education they got from some kid they went to school with. I was, in fact, the youngest in the class, at four. And I had told everyone this new found lesson I had learned in very graphic detail.

Forget your stork stories and baby store stories your parents told you. Let me tell you about that thing between your legs. The boys were in awe, and most of the girls didn't believe me. I can only imagine the look on all those parent's faces when they had to quit lying 10 years before they had planned.

I still remember when I learned the pleasure of it. This was far before a woman to whom i wasn't a responsibility had any specific interest in me. The first time I realized moving and strething things, grabbing things and twirling things made my knees buckle a bit and gave tingling feelings in wierd places.

My cousin used to tease me at a younger age when he started having sex. He was probably 14 or so, which would make me about 10 at teh time. Although I knew what sex was, I was still very scared of it. It's funny how, before you do something, you tend to feel that you're the only person on the planet who doesn't know anything about it.

I wonder if we're trained to be scared of new things just so... a whole 'nother topic in itself...

My cousin used to wave condoms in my face and i'd slap em away scared shitless of the subject. After all, just 6 years prior I had to change schools and make a bunch of new friends for talking about it. And then a year later to a new school, but that's another post as well (different reasons).

By the time I started warming up to the whole sex thing, a mere 2 or 3 years later, my cousin was showing me notches on his headboard. Actual notches. You know the 4 lines and the one slash through them, like the cliche of counting the days in a cell. He had eight at the time, i think. Man, If a kid could ever feel like an amateur in awe of a professional...

So it seemed bragging was the thing to do. Other kids around me began to, but I hated the kids in school, so I never paid them much attention. But my cousin, who I looked up to my whole life... The guy I used to go around robbing houses and spying on suburbanites with... Who used to take me to the recycling center to help out, just so we could grab Mad Magazines and Playboys. The guy who used to ride with me alllll the way to the lake to hang with his cool older friends swimming in the waves while it rained.

I really looked up to him, and here he was bragging about his numbers... Within the next 2 years, I came up with a couple groups of friends. I found some more bragdocia, so I began to join in a bit, although I had no idea. I began to tell my cousin's stories... At the same time I was still sweet and neive, so I started making tons of female friends.

As a DJ with a lot of female friends, I had a reputation to have fucked a lot of women far before I ever actually did. I never denied the lies, and eventually began to promote them when asked. The stories I had been told about my own past were incredible, and they were too great to deny. So much so that the first woman I was with had no idea she was my first. She had figured she was my 10th by then. Far from the truth, I was scared as fuck.

Don't think I didn't have opportunities. Just the opposite, actually. I'd probably had so many opportunities for sex, that I'd imagine there were plenty of women who figured me gay. I'd never actaully turned anything down, but I never really tried for it either. Years later (within the past few years) a few ex girlfriends came to ask why I never tried... When I told them I was a scared lil virgin they were completely surprised - well, i'd lik to think so, i'm sure they had the lies figured out. Then again, I've known girls with hopes and dreams to fall for less believable things.

So finally came the time. I was 'in love' with a girl and it seemed it was going to happen. We'd talked about it, and as far as she knew, I'd been an expert. I couldn't deny it as I was scared of the rep that had owned me at the time. It wasn't only a rep of sex, but many other things. Much was true, about the bad things we did, and the crazy shit we pulled off. If any part of my rep were to fall, the rest would follow - and there was too much truth in it, so I had to uphold the whole thing.

So the day came... We were remodeling our house. It would come to be the first house I'd been in for more than 2 years. Since we were renovating the entire upstairs, mom got the bedroom by the kitchen, and I got the kitchen. I wasn't 'in ' the kitchen, but in the eating area of the kitchen. I actaully had enough room for my full size bed, two turntables directly next to it (no leg room), and a couple crates for clothes.

I had the stereo speakers with a smoke machine on top of one. M came over and we chilled our normal way. My mom was far from home and nobody was coming by, so we began to get nervous but ready. I actaully had a jodeci tape in the deck and the smoke machine was on. With red lights. Yes, red smokey room with jodeci playing. The sexiest kitchen you've ever seen.

And there we went. Gentle as I could be - clumsy as all hell - but far less clumsy than I had expected to be. It hurt her, and I couldn't have lasted more than 3 minutes.

She hated the whole thing. 3 weeks later we tried again. a week later again. And then five to seven times a day for 3 years any time we got the chance to be together. Since she was in the suburbs, it wasn't too often until I got my car. Then I drove out there 3 nights a week.

Of course we had more than sex. Truly my first love, and after 5 years I left her to be here. It was going to fall apart, anyways. I'd spent so much time upholding a reputation that I no longer wanted, that I had to leave and find myself. I've found more of myself, and I've long lost her. She never forgave me for leaving.

But she'll always be the first notch that I was never crass enough to etch into my headboard.