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my first time

Well, in a sense, that little game of Haunted House was my first time. But in another sense, the first time I actually did real live coitus with a girl was my first time and it was great. Not just the act, but the whole event.

You see, I was in high school and I wanted to be in a band. Our friends were in a band and we would go to their shows and watch them be so cool. I wanted to be cool too. Unfortunately, I could not sing along to other musicians, and I could not play any instraments. I knew I would find some way for this not to deter me.

At some point, someone played me a copy of Prison, a CD by Stephen Jesse Bernstein, in which SJB reads his brilliant poetry over some electronic music. I could do that! I asked my friend if he would play bass for me, and then I wrote several poems with titles like, "The State of the Onion" (before there was The Onion) and "Bugs Bunny Was a Transvestite".

We had some connections with some of the bands playing the next big high school show, and we managed to get ourselves in for a 15 minute set. We were wandering around the mall blowing off a little steam by engaging in our favorite pastime, when, walking past The Gap, my friend Joe called out, "Sasha!"

I turned my head and there was the most lithe, foxy-fantastic girl I had seen this side of the food court. She was someone Joe knew from his high school (he went to Auburn, and I: Jefferson home of the preppie freaks) and we stopped to say hi and see how she was doing.

Thankfully I didn't have to pull together much smooth, since Joe did all of the talking (and information gathering). Evidently she was the long-time girlfriend of the lead singer of one of the following night's bands, Flannel Camel. He asked her how old Graham was doing, and she mentioned that they had just broken up, actually. Be still my beating heart. She was still going to the show however, and she was heartily encouraged by both of us not to miss out on our debut performance.

Apart, we were Dan and Joe, but together, and with a bass guitar, we were transformed into the dynamic duo of Thoughtless Independence. I was wearing a silk teal shirt with a knit tie, and I swear the only pair of sunglasses that have ever looked good on me. I felt like a superstar, and when I saw Sasha hanging out upstairs, we got into a conversation and just totally spilled our guts to each other. I was riveted by her charm, and listened with incredible attentiveness while she told me how she got raped while on family vacation to that stupid beach boys song "aruba, jamaica, ooooh I wanna take ya" that I now hate even to this day.

I got up there and rocked the mike. It was a magic night. I had prepared little prattle and silly jokes and inflections to the poems only to be done if it seemed to be going well, and I used them all. It all flowed from my mouth and the paper I held in my quivering hands. It was a rush.

The Rockford, IL version of an afterparty was going out for coffee at one of the local 24 hour joints, and it was publicly announced that Perkins family restaurant was the place. Then it was privately disseminated to all the really cool people (and for that one night, I was not a big dork) that we were actually going for cheese fries at Beef-a-Roo. And since Sasha was a band member's recent ex, that's where she was going to be as well.

She gave me her phone number and whispered "call me!" in my ear as she hugged me sweetly and I got into Joe's big damn Impala to go home.

Okay, not being a big dork only lasted a few hours. I think I called her that very night at 3am (just to leave a message and tell her what a good time I had!) but she picked up the phone and we talked until 6am. We went out twice.

Somewhere in all this the conversation went around to sex and I mentioned I had never actually gone there. We talked about it a little bit before she uttered those magic words, "...well, I want to have sex with you."

I realized at that moment that I really had better arrange that as soon as possible, and basically, a time was set.

She was skilled and patient, and we shagged to the delicious strains of Enya's Shepherd Moons, and Edie Brickell's Ghost of a Dog. I think I did a pretty good job! God knows I had done my research. About 20 minutes later, as I lay there next to her with stars in my eyes, I turned around with a dawning realization and said, "Can we do that again?"

Actually, we did it 2 more times, and were about to get started on a third, when my mom came home and we thought the better of it.

That night, I asked my mom if she would drive me to the Denny's so I could go chill and drink coffee with Joe, and tell him I GOT LAID! and my mom asked me, "Did you have sex with that girl?" on the way there.

"Yes." I pridefully admitted, even though I knew that I'd be busted for breaking one of the few house rules (no sex in the house unless you had the means to support a family, read: no one but her). Instead, as she dropped me off, she just said, "Congratulations."

Ok, so it was a rebound thing, and a week later she went back to her longtime boyfriend, but it was special to me! She gave me a mix tape that I still have to this day. I still listen to it sometimes.

Okay, so this deserves a not.so.soft style one-line 'get some comments' question. What music accompanied your first time?


three-dog night? janet jackson? ravel?

Sarah McLachlan, Fumbling Toward Ecstasy. I was naked by the end of 'Possession.'

Sadly, no music. I think we had the TV on and it was an old Saturday Night Live rerun. Quite appropriate.

It was the most unmemorable experience. No music, I think, but I remember thinking, "That's what all the fuss was about? Was that it?"

No music. He felt me up in a walk-in fridge before taking me to his bed, so there was no real romantic setup going on.

Jesus and Mary Chain, "Automatic" -- all well and good until he started insisting on playing it every time thereafter for the next six months or so. I still can't really listen to it with other people in the room.

Big Black, "Songs About Fucking," which is a great album but ironically NOT music anyone should have sex to EVER. It would be easier to fuck to the sounds of garbage trucks and bunnies being mutilated, really.
But I still love that album for reasons having nothing to do woth the memories attached to it.
Ooh, long comment, sorry.

None -- we were in the car and you know how there's nothing good on the radio ever. We would have had to have kept switching stations whenever "Breakfast at Tiffany's" came on (which was always, back then).

Some Dar Williams CD. I don't remember which one. Boys who like Dar Williams are sexy (and few and far between, unfortunately).

P.S. Job good!

enya? ahahahah enya. fuck i hate enya.

No music, just the sound of his older brother scraping at the door, trying to pick the lock and bust in on us - the pervert. Great story, you rock star you.

Motley Crue's "Dr. Feelgood" album. How ironic, especially since it didn't LOL.

To this day, when I hold up my pinky-finger, my best friend knows *exactly* who I'm talking about. ;)

shauny = harsh!

harsh yes but good in the sack. AHAHA.

I had a boyfriend whom I still refer to as "the gherkin".
One day he told me that he punched himself in the balls every morning, so that if he was ever in a fight he couldn't be disabled that way - and before I could stop myself, I blurted out: "Well, THAT explains a lot!"

I think it was Pearl Jam's "Ten." (It *was* Seattle in 1993, after all!)

no music...during the middle part of pulp fiction (right around the end of the od scene until the middle of the scene where jules and vincent clean out the car).