I tried to make a list once of all the girls I’ve slept with. It’s not that the list is all that long, but my memory isn’t fantastic, and things tend to blur together after a long while. Last March was the 20th anniversary of me losing my virginity.Twenty years ago I lay Kelly down on the top bunk in my bedroom and there was blood and pain and it was awkward and confusing. It got better quickly and for at least a couple of months we had wonderful, delightful, and probably very teenage sex.
And then there was Beth one night at a party, and it wasn’t what I wanted at all. We didn’t have a condom, but she kept saying it was okay, and she knew far more than I did. I said no over and over again until I said yes, hoping it wouldn’t last too long. Less than a minute later I was looking for my clothes and waking up my best friend to go home. On the bright side, he told me as we headed out into the early morning sun, you got laid. I nodded and tried to feel cool. All I felt was foolish, alone, and scared.
For a while there was plenty of oral sex, but I didn’t get a condom on and my cock in someone’s pussy until Stephanie my freshman year of college. I tried with one girl and couldn’t get hard, and with a few other’s the conversation never got that far. I don’t know why I didn’t fuck Amanda. We spent hours naked in bed, doing wonderful things to each other, but fucking wasn’t one of them. And like a cliche, I loved her the longest.
Stephanie I also loved, and she loved me, although neither of us came close to saying it when we were together. We fucked for hours at a time, and she was the first girl I fucked up the ass. She was strong, didn’t shave an inch of her body, and she was most unapologetic person I had ever met.
“I’m getting attached to you,” I said one night in a moment of weakness.
“Don’t do that,” she said. “I’ll run away in an instant.”
But she didn’t run away, and I didn’t say it again, until over a year later when we spent another night together. We hadn’t seen each other in eight months and we slipped easily under the covers and made love far sweeter than we ever had before. We looked into each other’s eyes and discovered the past tense was so much easier.
“I really loved you,” she said. “I loved you too,” I replied.
But lists are a foolish way to write, and why is sex all that important? There were kisses in between, and I fell in love on more than one occasion. Maybe, when I let myself go, the sex is in fact easier to remember than the struggle, the hurt, or even the adoration.
When my heart was most swollen with love, I tried as hard as I could to forget.