TMI Thursday: Misplacing the V-Card

I was 19. Chase & I had been dating about 2 months. He was older (23) and experienced. I had just gotten my first kiss on Valentine's Day when I was 18, and my first boyfriend, Patrick, and I didn't do much more than makeout and dry hump over clothes.

Dates with Chase were like a practical application of sex education. We quickly went through lessons 1, 2, 3, and then Chase was ready to slide into home (yes, I know that's a mixed metaphor--but go with me here).

I stalled for quite sometime, mostly because I was positively terrified. At the time, I thought Chase was freakishly huge. After our experience last September, I'm not sure if I was just reallllly shy or something else. Camile insists that penises can grow--do they shrink too with age?

Finally, one night we're getting into it and I get into the usual routine of fondling and oral sex. It was about all I was comfortable with. Not to mention, he still lived with his mother. His bedroom was next to the bathroom-- and I'm not exactly a quiet person. She liked me, though I'm not sure she would if she knew how often I sneaked into the house after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Chase is more insistent tonight.


"I want to make love to you," he purrs in my ear, the dim lighting reflecting into tiger stripes across his cinnamon colored back.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that, Chase," I insist. He runs his tongue down my neck and across my shoulder, turning my deep breaths into ragged gasps. It isn't long before I'm begging for release, and he is only going to give it to me in one way. I can't take it anymore.


"Fuck me," I command. A condom materializes out of thin air and he slides it on, ready to slide into me. I tense, cause now I'm anxious as hell as he slides in. It hurts. I ask him to stop. He kisses me, trying to get me to relax, but I can't. I'm not ready, and I know it, as much as I want to please him.

"It'll just be like pulling off a band aid. It'll be okay," he purrs again. "You love me don't you?"

"I can't do this!" I roll away from him and start crying. He sighs angrily, pulls the condom off, and lays down as far away from me as he can on the single bed. I know he's upset.

After a few minutes later, I curl into him.

"I'm sorry...." I plead in my best "I'm-cute-please-don't be-mad-at-me" voice. He says nothing, and turns on the TV. I stare at the movie--Resident Evil--for a few minutes. I'm being punished--I understand that through my naiveté. I do the only thing I know how to do—I grovel.

Burrowing my head under the covers, I lick down to him, taking him in my mouth, wincing momentarily at residual latex taste. He stops me.

“I don’t want you to give me head. I want to fuck you.”

I answer by giving him a condom.

Again, he tries to slide into me. I try to relax, but as he stretches me, I involuntarily tighten up. The impatient look on his face turns my stomach. This was not the patient, loving experience I wanted to have. And so many questions run through my mind: Could I get pregnant? Am I ready to give up the Virgin label? Will he call me tomorrow? Could I go to Hell for this?

He’s the one to turn away, sitting on the edge of the bed. I watch as he takes care of himself. I try to help, but he shoves me away, so hard I tumble over onto the floor. I kneel watching his cum rain down onto the carpet, where it pools in angry drops beside the two unused condoms.

I still stay there that night, laying next to him in the tiny bed. He’s hanging off on the edge of the bed, but when I try to pull him closer to me, he pushes my arms away.

It’s no surprise that Chase broke up with me a week later. Its 9 more months until I lose my virginity, to a Naval petty officer stationed at the sub base. 15 minutes later, I found out he was engaged.

For more Indecent Exposures, check out the other entries at TMI Thursday.

TMI Thursday: How I Earned the Respect of Men at a Strip Club

Inspired by Chelsea's inaugural TMI Thursday post at Chelsea Talks Smack, I am dedicating this week's TMI Thursday post to strippers.

 

It's not secret that I'm a rather open-minded person. Naked women bother me not in the slightest. Hell, Mafia Princess and I visited the local strip club whenever we were dead broke last summer because there were drunken men who would buy us drinks. It was almost too easy.

When Apache was home on his Christmas break, he had planned to go with "the boys" he works with to the local strip club. No big deal. I planned on hanging with some friends. Well, at the last minute he decided for me to go, and I went. 

I was totally terrified. Here, I was going with Apache to a) a strip club to meet b) men that I had known previously as Jay's girlfriend and c) Jay told me that everyone he worked with hated me, and d) there was a possibility DogFace would show up.  Lovely.

I get there, and it turns out only one of them, Player, remembers me. And since this particular guy has nicknamed Jay, "cheat", things are okay.

So, I sit down and quickly realize I am a girl out on boys night. I get introduced and then get ignored while men have their man time. Fine with me, I busy myself with catching up on my blogs on my cell (strip club ettiquette be damned).

The cocktail waitress comes over to ask us what we want to drink. She's a cute blond with glasses and her hair up in a librarian bun.  She gets the boys drinks then looks at me:

"What can I get for you, Miss {insert my last name here}?" 

The boys notice this exchange. I take a closer look at the girl. She is one of my former students-- apparently all grown up and working hard for the money. We catch up for a bit, then she goes to fetch our drinks.

Apache looks at me.

"Let me get this straight. You know a stripper?"

"Yea, she was one of my students."

"You taught a stripper?" I nod.

"Dude, your girl's killin' me." Player moans. The other guys voice their approval at this connection. 

It continues through the night when I get a lap dance bought for me. I was NOT drunk enough to even begin to remotely enjoy that. It was kinda awkward actually, especially since Apache was watching and I had NO clue how to act. I've never had a lap dance before. Advice?

 

Adding to the bizarreness of the night, a few strippers befriend me. Seriously, I was the ONLY girl in the bar other than the strippers, and the girls all came over to hang out when they weren't on the floor. The boys collectively decide that taking a woman to the strip club is definitely good for business.

As for me, I decided that tagging along for boys night isn't such a good idea. I'd much rather do the strip club thing one on one with the boyfriend since it can be a sexy date. Going with you boyfriend and his buddies, not so much.

So, I try to drink away the awkwardness-- after three relatively weak diet coke and Bacardis, i decide that I need something stronger. Cue a Grateful Dead, which I figured would be made weak like the Bacardis. I drink the drink, and still don't feel a thing. An hour later, Apache and I decide to leave. We had come in separate cars, and I was going to drive to his house. I get on the highway and realize a few miles later that I am NOT okay to drive. Not at ALL okay. Luckily, Dawson lives only a few minutes down the road. I call Apache to let him know the change of plans, and dump my car off at Dawson's, before proceeding to pass out in Apache's car.

Next time he wants me to join him on boys night, I might just end up staying home. 

Do You Have a First Aid kit handy?

A week back into the dating game, I've realized something very important: the most difficult thing is not allowing yourself to love another, but to stop yourself from persecuting the new guy for the sins of the old.

"The one before you left me so damaged..." - Dainty Kane

There is so much truth in that line. I have a wonderful time with Doc. He faithfully texts me every morning at 10 or so (he initiates-yay!). As for the inability to carry a text message conversation, that has improved. But I've also realized something. Like me, he has a job that requires his complete concentration. He can't carry a full conversation with me during the day, and vice versa His texts are a way of keeping in touch, to let me know that he is thinking about me. Physically together, we have fantastic conversations and chemistry-- plus he's rivaling Jay in the bedroom skills department. ;-)

So, what's the problem? I'm falling for him, like I fell for Jay and Trevor. Because of the horror show of my last two breakups, I am petrified of this ending the same way. So, I read into things too much. Yesterday, for example, we made tentative plans to go out. As in, he was cleaning his apartment, doing laundry, and cleaning his 200 gallon fish tank, and would text me when he was finished. A few minutes later, I texted him, and was like "would it be easier if I just came over there?" No response.

So, I start to freak out. While with Jay and at the end of Trevor, no response was the equivalent of the silent treatment. I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds-- I have yet to go to his house (he lives about half an hour away from me and the restaurant.) Hours passed, and still no response. Anxiety level increases.

I do have a problem with anxiety. I'm aware of it, and am on medication for it. The meds only helps so much; anxiety attacks do happen, especially when I work myself up.

At 8 o'clock, I decide that he hates me, that I annoyed him, that he's mad at me for being too forward, and go to bed.

I wake up this morning to a text from Doc sent at 9:24 pm:  "Hey hunny ur text just came through. I thought you forgot about me. I'm sorry I was cleaning all day. :( I missed spending time with you."

So, my fears were unjustified. The mini Snickers bar I ate (damn Halloween candy) unnecessary. Luckily, I hadn't freaked out on him, like this poor girl did. It was simply a case of no service and late text messages, which in our area of CT happens very frequently. The hills, valleys, and dales often prevent phones from getting a signal. Understandable.

Anyone else feel like this, or am I totally crazy?

It's a small world after all

There's a theory out there that if a person is one step away from each person they know, and two steps away from each person who is known by the people they know, then everyone is, at most, 6 steps away from anyone on earth. Also, known as six degrees of Kevin Bacon.

I met Trevor at a party. He was there with his cousin Jeff, his cousin's girlfriend, and this girl--let's call her Amy. I thought Trevor and Amy were together.. turns out they had just met that night. Trevor "took one for the team" and called me the next day. We were together from that day on.

Amy, as you can understand, was not too happy about this. Trevor and I would run into her at different places around town. It's a small town, there's not alot of places people our age hang. At one point, she accused me of "stalking" her (she was working at Blockbuster's).

Fast forward three years.  I start coached middle school softball this past spring and one of the parents helped me coach. I had her daughter, Lela, in two of my classes. Lela's mom friended me on facebook today. When I was looking through her profile, I noticed something. She has an older daughter: Amy.

Awk-ward.