I lost my virigity at age 17.
(I'll give you a moment to recover.)
Are we all good? Mmk. I will proceed.
This may be shocking.
I am the product of super liberal parents who begged me from age 14 or so to "come to them first" when I felt that my hymen was in danger of imminent breech. So, when I starting seeing a guy on a pretty regular basis, got the moisties and knew that his "itch" was also beggin' to be scratched, my mom hauled my ass to the gyno faster than RPatz grows facial hair. I came home with the little pink "wheel o' freedom" and showed the new boyf that we had exactly eight days of me ingesting these little magic baby-blocking pills until blast off. He literally marked the fucking calendar in red ink.
The day came (no pun intended) and his horny ass was on my doorstep with a shit eatin' grin on his face. My mom, after giving me the "this-is-gonna-suck-for-you-but-it-gets-better-I-promise" talk, had arranged to be "out to dinner and a movie" with my little sister and my dad was at work. I'm seriously surprised there wasn't some sort of checklist on my nightstand or some shit.
#1...Wash your girl bits
#2...Remind Sparky that you've never ridden the lightning
#3...Foreplay is your friend
#4...Take a Tylenol
#5...Change your sheets
You get the idea. I mean...this wasn't your "backseat of a Pacer with steamed up windows/use an ancient glovebox condom" type of encounter. I pre-gamed with some softcore porn on HBO Late Night. I did a full leg shave. I gargled with Minty Fresh Scope. It was highly structured. Planned to the last detail. I was SO prepared for this life-altering event.
And yet, it still sucked.
So you see? No amount of planning made it better. This is why I am spending my day today, ingesting copious amounts of paxil/coffee and trying REALLY hard not to think too much about the impending event, and yet it is the prevailing thought weaving through my twisted, tangled grey matter.
My "Little Ashes" cherry is being popped today.
And I am seriously more nervous than that day back in November 1982 when the bumping of the uglies lasted all of 45 seconds and I ended up wondering if I'd ever get a chance to experience an orgasm before Sparky went all spastic on/over me.
For those of you wondering why on earth I haven't succumbed to temptation before now, the answer is simple. I simply could NOT bear to watch The Pretty One do man-on-man unless it was displayed on my vivid high-def 57" Sony Bravia. It just seems dirty...seedy....WRONG to watch it all condensed and grainy on my cheap Toshiba laptop. The infamous "tuck" is something that should only be allowed to exist in brilliant 1080p, kwim?
So, I remained "Little Ashes" chaste until today, when it became available for purchase on DvD in the 50 contiguous.
Still, I am as nervous as Jim Duggar hopping into bed on ovulation day.
It's not the gay secks. Hell, I watched the Tudors all weekend and it turns out that King Henry the 8th's court did more fudge-packing than the folks at Cadbury. I wasn't the slightest bit squeamish about that part. I found it...interesting. Sweet, even. Except when it got animalistic. Which was almost every time. And then I found it...strangely, ummm...hot?
All I know is that tonight, at about 7 p.m. CST, I will be huddled in front of the flat-screen with nothing between me and SalvadoRob Dali except my contact lenses.
And I'm scared shitless.
Somebody, anybody....please hold me.
And be prepared to help me change my sheets when it's over.