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.


6 Responses to “sex. the first time.”

  1. Betsy Says:

    It has really good components. It’s funny and sad, and speaks to the dumb things we do when we’re young and involved in a first love. I think almost anyone reading it can relate in some way. If I were your editor, I’d say sentence fragments are useful but there are too many of them. Also, “a lot” is two words, not one. On a personal note, I, too, had a soft spot (a VERY soft spot) for surfers when I was young. They smelled and tasted like salt water and tanning lotion, all the time. I’m sorry you lost yours, but I kind of admire him for cutting you off completely and not guilt tripping you for the next 10 years while feigning to still care about you. You’re onto some good stuff here!

  2. Liz Says:

    I bet he’s secretly reading this blog though.
    Great stuff Geri, as usual.

  3. What a shame he hasn’t reconnected. I’m sure his hurt was real. But time can be a healer. Should be a healer. And don’t we all gain wisdom (and compassion) for our younger selves thanks to the passing of the years? And thereby gain more capacity to forgive? I certainly feel sad that he hasn’t chosen to communicate with you on some level.

  4. Ilana Says:

    I would write him again and tell him that while you understand he is not talking to you, a child support check would be helpful. I think he should get over it. I’m just saying.

  5. Marie Says:

    Its not like you were Tiger Woods. It was a one time mistake!

    Gee, you’d think after a couple of decades – he would have the capacity to forgive…

  6. Marty D Says:

    Ok, so this bring back memories from the extreme back of my brain.

    To anyone else reading this, I was Chris’ friend in college and his roommate for part of this time. I thought that you two were the perfect couple. To read your blog made me a little sad because you are not together today. I think that Chris really changed a bit when he headed out to Univ. of Md too. Life goes on and we all need to live life to it fullest!

    Miss ya! Marty

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