Last night, I was reading the most recent post from the 2 Boys in Love blog, where Matt posted that he wanted to take some more time to get his post about losing his virginity right. He didn’t want to throw it out there. He needed to express what it meant to him, the emotion of the moment.

It made me remember one of my own from 17.5 years ago. He was 22 at the time (a junior – he’d come back to school after some time off). I was still a virgin at the time and I had only been 18 for 2 months. (My parents started me in school early, so I graduated high school at 17 years old. I turned 18 at the beginning of my second semester of college.) This event happened in March 1994. A day or two after this event, I wrote out how I felt about it. So, this is not me trying to remember an event from 17 years ago. This was me writing down something that had just happened to remember it in the future. In truth, I was writing this down diary style, so that I could share it with my own daughters in the future, presuming I would have any. (Lucky me, I have 2!) Ironically, this was also the event that made me realize that some things have to be experienced on your own, not vicariously, and that I needed to stop writing down such things for that purpose. So my diary essentially stopped that day. But I digress.

I’m not yet a writer. I’ve put words down and called it a story before, but I haven’t studied the craft at all, much less honed it yet. This is some of my early work. And it wasn’t meant to be a story for consumption by others, though I have shared it with a few people (and most told me I should be a writer because they thought it was good at the time). The point is – THIS IS A MEMORY. This is me, in this situation, and how I felt. The dialogue and my thoughts are actual, not fictional. I still know his name and have a picture of us, taken probably a week after this event – it’s one of my favorite pictures of me. I cleaned up a couple of commas, but otherwise this is what I wrote at the time, and it’s not intended to be the best thing I ever wrote – just the most personal.

So, if you have something negative to say about it, DON’T. Don’t ruin my memory.

* * * * *
I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but he brought it out of me. I was in his apartment and it was late. Do I stay or do I go? Only a few months ago there would have been no choice – I would have gone. But college has this funny way of changing you. I knew that he had to get up early in the morning, but somehow I was pretty sure he didn’t care about that. Do I stay or do I go?

I knew I didn’t want to go. In the back of my mind there never really was a choice. I followed him into his bedroom. He turned off the lights and closed the door. Then we got comfortable – he changed into his boxers and took off his shirt, and I changed into one of his t-shirts; the bra and pants came off later. Like I said, he brought it out of me, this feeling that I could be more free than normal; “faster” I guess is a better word.

Then he kissed me. I have been kissed before, but not with a passion like this. His four years more of experience made a big difference. He started softly and grew in intensity, but he always returned to that soft stage – an ability that only maturity brings. I couldn’t have asked for anything better; I’m not even sure if there is such a thing. All I know is that I would’ve melted if I’d been on my feet; he swept me off them.

But I wasn’t ready – to go “all the way” that is. After all, I’d known him for only two weeks. There’s still a lot I don’t know about him, even now. Can I trust him? The air became more and more heated as time progressed, and neither of us was getting any sleep at this rate. But I decided I couldn’t go through with it… not yet (and not that I didn’t want to!) All I could manage between our kisses was “don’t… please,” and he didn’t. He continued to kiss me and brought his hands back up underneath my back to mess with my hair.

More than once he noticed my heart was racing. I hadn’t. He paused a few seconds later, and I looked up at the dark silhouette poised above me. He asked, “What are you thinking?” and that threw me. A lot of things were flying through my mind so fast that I had no idea what they were or even where to begin. I searched for what felt like several seconds to find exactly the right way to say everything I felt all at once, but it was really only a split second before, out of nowhere, a thought crossed my lips before it even crossed my mind. Somewhere from my subconscious, I said it all: “That I can trust you.” Only a one-word answer followed…


* * * * *

I did not give him my virginity that night, though it was the first time that I ever felt a man’s erection against my body (and “Oh. My. God!” does not even begin to cover the emotion resulting from that!) In fact, I didn’t give it to him at all. As much as I was attracted to him, he realized I wasn’t the right person for him, and though I didn’t like it, I happened to be with him in June when he met the right girl for him, and after seeing them together and getting to know her, I acknowledged to myself that he’d been right. (She dicked him over 4 years later, not long after he proposed (and she accepted!) but before she graduated, a year behind me. I was shocked because they had been so right for each other in the beginning, and obviously he still thought so because he proposed. I never got her side of the story.)

Anyway, there it is.
God, he was cute. =)

~ by Adara O'Hare on November 11, 2011.

2 Responses to “Memories”

  1. Hi Adara. Sharing this with all of us is giving us a glimpse of something very personal about you. Believe me I know what that’s like. For me it’s like opening yourself up and inviting others to know more than the surface stuff. I reread this a couple of times and just kept thinking about how you were able to enjoy the physical part of it… the kissing, feeling his erection, and wanting it to go further… but then you trusted yourself when you had doubts about what it would mean to go further. Maybe that’s the lesson I’m sure you’ve maybe passed on to your daughters. Always listen to yourself that knows what’s right and trust that. I feel privileged to have read what you wrote when you were 18. Thank you.

  2. If I manage to pass that lesson along to my daughters, I will consider myself very accomplished. That’s one of the most important, in my opinion.

    Thanks for posting, Matt. =)

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