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where have all the hymens gone? I will never stay away this long again! Have you read all the nice things people are saying on my tagboard? I'm like a pig in poo here. So thanks to everyone for that much needed boost and as a reward I shall finally continue baring my soul and somewhat embarassing past with The London trip was supposed to be a huge deal with tons of people from my high school coming along. And yet somehow, to my great relief as I can say with complete honesty that I hated everyone else who had expressed interest in the trip, only four of us ended up going. Me, of course, my best friend J.K., the cherry popper, and a guy who's name totally escapes me and had nothing to do with the actual event. He was a friend of J.K.'s though so I was probably cool with him. And then there were five, we had a chaperone, our travel agent, and another friend of J.K.'s, who set the whole trip up for us and who's name may or may not have been Lucy, but since my memories fucked that what's we'll call her. She only really becomes relevant in the aftermath of the event, which, typically, is a ton more interesting than the actual sex part. We left for London on Christmas Day from Memphis and after a stopover in Cinncinnati that's only worth mentioning cause I thought it was sooo cool that there was a Starbuck's in the airport, we landed in London on Boxing Day, a holiday I still don't get except that nothing seemed to be open because of it. We went straight from the airport to a bus station where we waited for something like four hours for a bus to Canterbury. The bus station is where our story actually begins since it was there that I and the cherry popper realized we had something else besides theater in common. We were both enormous dorks. We were all completely exhausted, but the sheer excitement of being in a foreign country was more than enough to wake the two of us up. We were delighted by every little thing, the cabs, the funny accents, the pigeons that seemed to be everywhere, and we were annoyingly vocal about it. So while everyone else did their best to get some sleep in the pigeon infested bus station Brad and I talked. About everything. And I discovered while still not cute, he was actually a pretty cool guy. I started to understand why such a spectacularly unremarkable looking guy always had such cute girlfriends. He was intelligent and interesting. So I started flirting. We all spent our first night in England at a bed & breakfast-y place. Cobblestone's are hell on luggage wheels so when mine broke Brad carried my bag for me. Canterbury Cathedral was right behind where we stayed so we all toured that in the morning and then split up to go shopping. I've never been a subtle flirter so the first thing J.K. wanted to know when he got me alone was what was up with me and Brad. I told him I was just being nice and had no intention of doing anything..untoward. And I was totally telling the truth. We left for London that afternoon and did some touristy things before retiring to the hotel bar and celebrated the fact that we could actually drink. By getting drunk. Which is where my memory starts getting kind of fuzzy. But c'mon, you let a group of teenagers loose in a city with little to no supervision and you know what they're going to do. So that first night in London I did the drinking thing. And the next day I did the sex thing. Brad and I were supposed to do more American teenager in London stuff the next day. Check out some museums and whatnot. Since I'm a notorious oversleeper I gave Brad a key to our room and asked him to get me up at a semi-decent time. He was not supposed to end up in the bed with me. And I definitely had no intention of making out with him while J.K. slept in the next bed. But he did and we did and eventually J.K. woke up so we retired to Brad's room where the subject of actually having the big S finally came up. Okay, so we didn't have sex that day. We had to talk about a few things first. Like that he had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend who were themselves ex-boyfriend and girlfriend. Brad seemed to care about this a whole lot more than I did so we finally got our asses out of the bed and got on with the touristing. Which just led to more drinking and kissing and the next day more bed hopping. And then I did something that is almost unforgiveable. I told Brad that I loved him and I wanted to be his girlfriend so it was totally okay if we went ahead and had sex. So we did. I can't explain all the psychological stuff behind my decision to lie to this perfectly nice boy about my feelings for him, but since it really wasn't about him I can at least explain my motivations for wanting to lose my virginity. It was all Nate's fault. Rewind to the day before Christmas Eve. I'm hanging out with my new boyfriend at his apartment where he lived all by his lonesome so I'm feeling like a real grown up. There's kissing and groping and I touched my very first penis. Woo hoo. Then Nate tells me that Amanda made him wait three months before they had sex and that if I don't make him wait at least that long he won't have any respect for me. If I don't make him wait? The fuck? So when the oppurtunity to have sex with someone who apparently isn't going to think me a slut if I don't make him wait comes along I figured why the fuck not. So what if I had to coax him into it. The actual act was, well, underwhelming. I wondered for years whether or not it even counted as my first time. I've since decided that as long as it got in, which it did, it didn't much matter if it didn't stay there very long. No, not premature ejaculation. Pain, big pain, and more than a little blood. But Brad was very nice about it and I actually started feeling a little bad about lying to him. And next time I'll tell you how I stopped feeling bad. Jesus, I'm lazy. < karma is a capricious little bitch - brad pitt had it easy > |
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MsMongi aka Kim Too Pink? Bite me. |
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