Because You Can't Wear Platforms in the Peace Corps

my life illustrated by stories of shoes

sex. the first time. December 8, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Geri Gordon Miller @ 7:30 am

I have been talking about sex alot lately. Probably because I am not having it.

My first time was much later than most of my friends. I was 19. 19 and 7 months to be exact. Actually 19, 7 months and 15 days.

 I learned about sex from a book my parents gave me, “How Babies are Made.”  I thought about that book alot, but mostly because it said we start as smaller than a dot made by a pencil.

 But the book didn’t really talk about sex, like the how to, so really what I learned, I learned from my friends Diana and Laurie. I made them describe, in great detail, what it was like; does it hurt? Is it gross? Ew, you do what with that? I made out with boys but never let them go beyond second base. The slobbering of teens, even at that age, was not alluring to me. Nor was getting pregnant  by some football player who would never leave the place we grew up. That was not the life I was envisioning for myself. I wanted to see the world, be someone special, fall in love with some exotic artist, musician, or architect.

Then off to college I went, and at the first dorm dance, there he was. 6’4″, blond curly hair, blue gray eyes, long fingers, white teeth,and tanned skin. He was wearing ripped jeans, a turquoise blue plaid oversize blazer with light yellow lines running through, a havana brimmed straw hat,lightning bolt earings and OP flip flops. The cutest surfer dude ever.

 I on the other hand, was fully ensconced in the disco era; a cornflower blue Danskin qiana dress, the original white candies with the wood heels,an ankle bracelet,  and Farah Fawcett flipped hair. I am pretty sure I had long red nails and lots of eyeshadow to top the look.

                                                              

Somehow, we ended up hanging out that night smoking pot, talking about our love of the Jersey Shore, Bruce Springsteen and Led Zeppelin.

And then we were dating.

After spending every day together between classes, at night and on weekends, we decided we would “do it.” He had already done it, I had only imagined what it would be like.  I went out and bought sexy red lingerie and candles, and then I really don’t remember much else. Except the next morning my friend was coming to visit , and I recall telling her I didn’t get what the big deal was.

And then I did. 

 I remember my first orgasm was the next semester, while we were fooling around in bed and my roommate was in the other bed sleeping.  

 We had sex constantly. The greatest was when we went to the shore the following September for his sisters wedding. We were on a deserted beach, the sun was beating down, and it was so earthy and sensual- it seemed like From Here To Eternity, except we had no clothes on. And were having sex. And I look nothing like Deborah Kerr.

We dated for the next 3 1/2 years of college, until I ruined it by sleeping with my cousin’s roommate when I went to visit them at Penn. I had never slept with anyone else, and wanted to know what it was like.

 It was like wanting an open oyster from Godiva in the gold box, but getting a Hershey’s kiss in tin foil. Of course he found out. He read my diary.  He told me I ruined his life, and never spoke to me again. I used to write him apology letters trying to explain, and I would get back return to sender, addressee unknown in his handwriting.

 For fun and curiosity I looked him up on Linked In recently. There he was, looking for business contacts and reconnnecting with old friends. Hey, I was an old friend. So, I emailed him and said “Hey! How are you? Hope you are having a wonderful life. Sorry I hurt you when we were younger.”  He did not add me as a business contact or old friend.