My First Time: A Love Story

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a bright and sunny day, reminiscent of the early days of spring. It was actually late fall in Houston, November, to be exact. I was 18, a high school senior, and ready to take on the world.
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Seth Blank seals an envelope containing his absentee ballot for the Nov. 6th election at the town hall in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, Thursday, Oct. 25, 2012. (AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty)
Seth Blank seals an envelope containing his absentee ballot for the Nov. 6th election at the town hall in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, Thursday, Oct. 25, 2012. (AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty)

I will never forget my first time. It was the day that I became a man.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a bright and sunny day, reminiscent of the early days of spring. It was actually late fall in Houston, November, to be exact. I was 18, a high school senior, and ready to take on the world.

And I wanted to do it so badly that it hurt!

My anticipation was at fever pitch. I felt as though I had been waiting for this moment my entire life. My anticipation would often give way to daydreaming as I would become engulfed in my emotions. As the promised day grew closer, my anticipation only mounted.

I mainly pondered how doing it for the first time would feel. I would sheepishly ask others if they remembered their first time, sheepishly for I knew that doing it was an intimate and private affair. To my surprise, everyone I spoke to was quite open concerning their first time. They said that it was a feeling unlike any they had ever had before. They spoke of doing it with passion, with feelings of ecstasy that consumed and enthralled them at the same time.

Some said it felt so good it made them cry.

Over many months, I received seductive solicitations from many who desired me. Each day, I would open my mail to find a letter filled with promises of what they would do for me. They told me how special I was, how much I deserved them, how much better they could do it than the others who also desired me. Some even bragged about how experienced they were at doing it, too. I must admit that this captured my full attention.

But I was careful to also guard my emotions. It felt good to be wanted, but I also wanted to be responsible. I did not want to rush into anything. I mean, your first time is your first time.

I also knew that some of them wanted me so badly that they were making promises to me they could not keep. I did not want to wake up the next morning to feel like I had been tricked or used. I am neither dumb nor cheap! This would not be a one night stand filled with balloons and confetti! I wanted someone I could trust, who would listen to me, with whom I could build a bright, new future.

I had to make sure that they were special, that they would not break up with me after our special date. I needed to know that when I called them, when I needed them, they would not act like they did not want me because they had already gotten what they wanted from me.

Once the day had come, I went to the barbershop and got a fresh-cut and shave. I took out my recently pressed suit from the closet and gently laid it upon my bed next to my pressed shirt and tie. I shined my shoes, got dressed, and then departed.

My heartbeat quickened as I gently placed the card inscribed with my name and our rendezvous point near my heart.

I had hoped to borrow my mother's car, but it had recently broken down. Yet, nothing was going to keep me from this special moment, the moment for which I had been waiting for so long. I was so determined not to be deterred that I jumped on my bike and began to peddle down the street, suit and all.

When I finally arrived at the rendezvous point, the door was unlocked. I parked my bike, straightened my tie, took a deep breath, and went inside.

I was ready to do it! There was no turning back now.

As I entered, people were staring at me and watching me. Their thoughts were so loud that I could hear them; "He's too young to do it." "What does he know about doing it?" Yet, I found their watching me exhilarating. I was going to do it, and do it well! There was a curtain so I could do it in private. But I wanted them to watch me, so I pulled the curtain, but not all the way, to ensure they could watch me do it.

And I did it!

I did it over and over and over, again! I did not rush. I held on tight. I took my time. I made strong and deliberate strokes. I left my mark all over. I made it mine.

When I was done, I opened the curtain. I had never felt this way before. It felt even better than what they said that it would.

I was a man!

The next day, I could not wait to get back to school to tell all my friends what I had done!

"What was it like?"

"Where did you do it at?"

"How did it feel?"

My response: "Like nothing I have ever felt before! I can't wait to do it, again!"

The passage of many years has not diminished my excitement or anticipation. In fact, excitement and anticipation has grown as I am now able to do it with my wife!

Yet, you never forget your first time. I know I will never forget mine.

The first time I did it. The day I became a man.

The first time I VOTED!

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