Chapter 69: “Losing My Virginity
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*South Park again! That means NSFW! Stories of SPOOOKY GHOSTS inbound!
Christmas 2006 came and went. The three of us set up a Christmas tree and decided to have an impromptu photo session. Then we went “home” even though Bangor already felt like home. Keith left separately, Shawn and I together in my car. We all met up at Keith’s parents’ house to say hi then went onto our respective families.
Our family made sure to spend another wonderful Christmas with our Memére and our gathering this year was at her place.
After returning from home for the holidays, the three of us guys celebrated the other Holiday at our home, the start of the New Year: 2007. I made it another year. It was always a thing to rejoice.
I was working more often these days and I really got to know my Subway co-workers in Orono. I worked exclusively with women: from my manager, Meagan, to Amber, Sara, Nia, and Kat to name the majority. I found myself falling into old habits by imagining what it would be like to date these girls. I hadn’t jumped back into the dating pool since Tonya. Soon, I met some of Kat’s friends and one of them was Dorothy. She and I had this magnetic connection when we first met and it was hard to break eye contact. She was cute; she had a slender body and these big beautiful eyes. No wonder I had gotten lost in them.
I was soon invited to their friend’s house for a get-together. Usually, one to pass on this kind of invitation I said yes this time if it meant that I could see Dorothy again.
It was here at the gathering where Dorothy and I hit it off by playing Dance Dance Revolution. They drank (I would never touch the stuff) and as the night progressed people began to leave. I ended up staying on one of the couches, Dorothy on the other. Soon, we sat together and began to kiss. It wasn’t much longer until I found myself with my hand down her pants.
Before (and certainly, after this encounter) we talked incessantly on AIM (AOL Instant Messenger for you kids). We really got to know each other. I found myself able to spill even the tiniest of details to her, including the fact that I was still a virgin. She was dumbfounded. “How are you still a virgin?!”
“I never had the opportunity, I guess.”
Except that wasn’t really true. I almost had the opportunity when I was twelve. Yes, you read that right and if you have been reading this far, it’s no secret that my brother and I were always at each other’s throats as kids. We never truly got along and that was on each of us for different causes. So it stands to reason that when we lived primarily with my Dad after foster care we would need some sort of “supervision.” I hated the term babysitting…
We had two different “babysitters” until we came across a classmate’s mother, Arlene. Arlene had recently moved next to my friend Brad’s house and her daughter, Tracy, was in my grade.
Arlene was fairly strict and one of her rules was that when Tracy and I were in her bedroom that we had to have the door open. I never understood why it was such a big deal. That was until I began to masturbate.
As a pre-teen, my hormones were through the roof. I had never expected to be so close to a girl every afternoon after school. It was super exciting especially after my years of love letters and chasing girls. She was my “inside man” into the female psyche. Tracy and I discussed everything in her room: music, school, alcoholic parents, and eventually, masturbation.
She was fascinated by the concept and I, in turn, had been fascinated with her budding breasts. So we made a deal.
I could tell that my virginity intrigued Dorothy. She had such a flowery, yet vulgar way of talking and it was very hot. Our talks online had reached very deep levels of intimacy and so, we decided to make it official and date.
I had a girlfriend again; it wasn’t simply a fluke the first time!!
The next day I went over to spend time together at her house and our once profound conversations dwindled in person.
It was awkward; we both froze up face to face. I was always like this anyway, but it had appeared she too was awkward. After an hour or two of this, I left. Later that night, we hopped back onto AIM and talked. We addressed the elephant in the (chat) room and spoke of how uncomfortable that meeting had been. We vowed to each other to not let it happen the next time we hung out.
A few days later we got another crack at it and things were admittedly better this time around. But we were still not at our most comfortable levels such as when we were online.
A day later, Dorothy decided that this wasn’t working. I was upset but understood where she was coming from. It was TOTALLY for the best but it sucked that it was only a five-day relationship. Will I ever be able to get a girlfriend again?
Meanwhile, my younger brother of three years called me IMMEDIATELY AFTER he did the deed for the first time. That little shit; it wasn’t a competition but he beat his older brother. Unreal. This conjured so many thoughts and emotions from out of me: I felt jealous, a competitive nagging grew within, and I was reminded of my plea in the hospital: to not die a virgin. I wanted to experience life and this was a big part of that even if it sounded like the premise for an American Pie.
Tracy and I made a deal that if I could touch her boobs then she would give me a “hand.” We had to be clever with our timing. Once Arlene came upstairs to check on us then we’d have a good chunk of time (on average) before she would make her rounds.
It started with me feeling her up. Then, she showed me them. I was always a boob man (probably because I had my own…) but this was a whole new level from sneaking a peek at my Uncle Ricky’s Hustlers; this was real.
I would sometimes touch myself next to her and she would watch. Other times, she would take over. It was a magical time.
Tracy knew the sound of her mother walking upstairs and so she made sure to tell me when to put my thing away. One day, I was on a solo mission under Tracy’s comforter in her bed. She was nearby recording a song off of the radio using cassette tapes. It was yet another thing we had in common.
One afternoon I’m going to town and she warned me of her mother’s impending arrival. I thought I had my ear trained well enough to recognize the sounds of footsteps and I ignored her, continuing the single-player game with my joystick.
The doorknob turned and the door swung open. There stood Arlene. She looked at Tracy and then me.
Another day went by and Dorothy and I continued to chat incessantly. The topic of my virginity came up again and since we were still wildly flirting online I asked her if we could have sex. She was worried that my first time wouldn’t be “special” if it was with someone I didn’t love. I told her at this point, “I’m nearing twenty-two and I don’t want to be a virgin anymore.” It was like a dark shadow that loomed over me every time I was around anybody attractive.
She agreed and I went to her house to do the deed. As much as this sounded like an escort situation and as much as she worried that I wouldn’t “do it” with someone special; this felt special to me.
Then, it immediately became awkward again. My first time wasn’t special but it was my first time and it’s not like I was expecting a porn-level excursion on the first go.
I left soon after and we didn’t speak that night. The next day, we spoke. It wasn’t that awkward anymore. We both seemed to enjoy it but I couldn’t help but want to do it again.
It turns out that once you finally have sex, that shadow transforms into an insatiable sexual lust that only gets worse around women. There was no escaping it.
So, this time she came to my place and we had the apartment to ourselves. We hung out on the couch watching some random movie. I couldn’t tell you the specific one; I was too busy thinking about sex. Soon after, we were making out then resumed our “demonic” act. We moved to my bedroom and finished there.
Then she left. I spent the night both marveling at how fun it was and yet also, how much stock we put into sex as a society. We spend our teen years (or at least I did) “putting the pussy on the pedestal” but once it happens it’s awkward, messy, and lasts (at best) forty-five minutes.
Then again, I definitely wanted to do it more. This had awakened a long-dormant urge for physical interactions with a woman. It was the same feeling I had with Tracy, but with less of the shame I felt once Arlene found out.
Arlene was quick to the draw. “What are you doing under the blankets?” I had to think of an excuse fast.
“I was cold.” Ooh, it was May and really hot outside. Bad excuse,
“Well, come on out then.”
She didn’t let up and pulled the comforter off of me. My boner had clearly receded by this point but my pants were still down near my ankles.
“Why are your pants off?” She was clearly getting mad.
Think fast, Jamie!
“It was hot under the comforter.”
Boy, I’m an idiot.
Arlene was furious. She demanded that we go downstairs immediately. She kept us in separate rooms, me in the living room and Tracy in Arlene’s bedroom. She told me to stay right here as she went to interrogate Tracy regarding my circumstance.
After about ten minutes of her screaming at her daughter, Arlene calmly came out of the room and stood in front of me. “Okay, Tracy told me everything but I want to hear it from you.”
I felt this huge weight off of my shoulders and spilled the beans. Arlene gave me this look of pure disbelief and stomped over to her daughter – still in the other room – and I could hear it from where I was sitting: “He was JERKING OFF?!”
Oh no, I’d been tricked!
I spent the rest of the afternoon separated from Tracy. Oh, so THAT’S why she separated us! When my Dad came to pick us up he had already been informed of the situation.
This happened on a Friday and we didn’t go back for a whole week. We finished out the school year and that was some of the most awkward times I had ever spent in someone else’s house. I had to spend the majority of my time spent at Arlene’s house outside– which admittedly, wasn’t a terrible punishment.
When it came time to return for the following school year, Arlene refused to have my brother and me back. Apparently, all we needed to do to stay home on our own was to prove to Dad that we were mature enough to engage in sexual acts. Easy!
Of course, years later, I found out that we actually liked each other but by then it was too late. If only I hadn’t been a mess-up then maybe I would have had a girlfriend (and not my virginity) years earlier.
After Dorothy and I’s second romp in the sheets, our talking dwindled and this option was wiped from my non-existent “playbook.”
I had no clue when “it” would happen again so I desperately tried to prevent this voracious compulsion from consuming my life.
At least I don’t have to worry about any mothers walking in on me now.
This is an ongoing story of my personal battle with Cancer. My hope is that it helps others who are currently experiencing their own battles (whether it be for themselves or a loved one) or to help with early detection.
The way I’m doing it is terrifying for a writer. I’m writing a publically available first-draft outline for an eventual book, chapter by chapter in weekly form. The only reason I’m doing it this way is to get the story out as soon as possible for someone out there who needs a survivor to visit them during their own treatment. If you’re reading this and need someone to talk to, tweet at me and I’ll give you a call. No questions asked. This story is for you and I’ll help any way that I can.
Stay tuned, as I will be posting a new chapter every Monday until the story is complete.
And remember if you experience any Anemic symptoms– get checked for Leukemia as well.