Feels like the first time

by anna at 10:03 PM on November 17, 2004

You're a young lad or lass. You may have received some perfunctory education about these matters. But you've spent most of your waking hours thinking about this moment for years. You've discussed it at length with more knowing confidantes. They are nowhere to be found now.

You're probably in some awkward position, like an attic or the back of a car or a picnic blanket that smells of mildew. You're done with the docile kissing. It's time for the removal of clothes and... you know. Suddenly you realize that you have no idea about the exact mechanics involved here. Panic sets in.

Jeans are easy to unsnap. So are bras. So how come it is so hard that first time? You'd think you were trying to make off with the Hope diamond or something. It is just a simple clasp. Reach up and over and it is off. But in practice it doesn't work that way. Half the time the girl winds up taking it off herself. My guess is it's the same way with zippers and boy's underwear. Fumbling is the word but it hardly does it justice.

Then it is the moment of truth. It is over before it really begins. At least for the girl, there's no pleasure involved. Nobody has any idea of what you're supposed to say afterwards, how you're supposed to act. Yet you feel that you've done the right thing, fulfilled your destiny. No longer will you be teased by peers to whom this is old hat by now.

Culture has taught us that these things should be romantic. They should go more smoothly. Bothersome details should work themselves out. But we all know that isn't true. And oddly, that heady experience is one of the few that sticks with us forever, the more awful and sordid the better.