Sex: First Times, aka How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Sex

Sexually, I was what you might call a “late bloomer.” And then, within the space of about six months, I became what you might subsequently call a flower in full, glorious, very sexy bloom.

Like me, only not quite as sexy.

 

What changed? You could say I “sexually matured,” but a more realistic answer is that I saw and interacted with my fair share of various genitalia (attached, of course, to wonderful, very sexy people), I took a crash course in my own body’s pleasure and I shook off my “virginity” as casually as I would a bug on my hand and emerged into the world of blooming flowers.

What really changed, though, was my relationship with the concept of sex. I’d always pictured sex as a hyper-romantic, intimate exchange of two souls—you know, the classic image of “making love.” Well, I’ve had sexy fun with a fairly significant number of people, and in retrospect, I can’t really remember why I ever romanticized sex in the first place. Sex is way too sweaty and hilarious to be an intimate exchange of souls, if you ask me. I mean, just think about some of the positions. Hilarious.

So where did I get that idea, anyway? I could blame it on my socialization—there’s no doubt that I absorbed a large number of (predominantly unhealthy) sexual messages throughout my girlhood and adolescence, emerging from teenagerdom with messages as diverse as “You should wait for the right person” and “Use this trick to blow his mind in bed!” These messages were relayed during sleepovers, at the lunch table, on the lawn after school…they buzzed around our heads like a swarm of annoying, über-heterosexual bees that we just couldn’t shake.

No wonder we were worried about the Birds and the Bees. (via Threadless)

 

I don’t remember when the obsession shifted from First Kiss to First Time, both whispered under blankets at sleepovers in respectful tones that drove home their seemingly arbitrary capitalization. I do remember my own First Kiss trials and tribulations—how I wouldn’t let my first boyfriend kiss me when we were fifteen, because I wanted it to be “special” and I didn’t think he was The One – but given my late bloomer status, I missed the part where everyone stopped worrying about lips and started worrying about other bits touching one another. I was still hung up on my first kiss at seventeen, when my other friends had starting dropping off the virgin tree like flies.

Perhaps it was the emotional instability of my senior year of high school (finally admitting to myself that okay, I don’t just “like” girls and reading feminist literature for the first time), but I  started to ask myself some questions about the big First Time. Before I could doubt my wobbly new convictions, I signed up for OkCupid, found someone who was cute enough, and met up with them. We kissed. It was fine.

And it was fine. The world didn’t end. In fact, the newly mouth-experienced me went on to have my first real relationship that summer, and then on to my explorations in college. The world was just beginning, and when I opened my eyes and really looked at the world I lived in and the one I imagined as a kid, I finally saw the disparities between them. My First Kiss was a bit of a debacle (too much tongue, to be honest), but it armed me with the knowledge that First Times don’t have to be groundbreakingly romantic.

What a brilliant revelation. (via Technically Funny)

 

I waited a little while after that fireworks-less First Kiss to do my firsts of other things — and when it was my turn, I didn’t drop like a fly off of any virgin tree. I leapt, gleefully and unromantically, with a close friend of mine that I ended up having a lovely time with for a few months.

We weren’t in love, or even close to it. We were just friends who happened to want to fuck all night and then laugh about it the next day. But if The One (or even love) was what I was supposed to wait for in order to have my firsts … well, I would have missed out on a lot of great sex.

About AlannaLaFemme

To learn all about me, see this post I wrote as an introduction to being a new contributor for QueerieBradshaw.com: http://www.queeriebradshaw.com/introducing-alanna-lafemme-our-latest-contributor-addition/
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4 Responses to Sex: First Times, aka How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Sex

  1. Pingback: Queerie Bradshaw » Sex: Mother Knows Best, aka Sex Tips from my Mom

  2. Pingback: Queerie Bradshaw » Sex: Virginity, the Sequel

  3. Katy says:

    Amen! I so wish I would have realized this earlier…luckily, it clicked as soon as I hit campus my freshman year.

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