If you’ve been following my blog you’ll know I’m a virgin. I never so much as kissed a girl, let alone got any further. In the past it has affected me, especially in times of loneliness. I remember being overseas, newspaper open on the classifieds, weighing up whether to call a lady of the night to deal with my troubles or continue on virginal and lonely as another birthday rolls by.
Even though at times I hated being a virgin. I didn’t make that call. I remained uninitiated in the Way of Woman.
Around when I turned twenty-four I really made a push to do something about it. I signed up for OkCupid, an online dating website I had played with before, but nothing so determinedly serious. I even started blogging about it. Now I’m vaguely accountable to a small, but wonderful readership who have really helped me in ways I probably don’t even realise. Even just reading dating blogs from women’s perspectives has been greatly informative. Like that movie What Women Want, but with less Mel Gibson. I have accumulated a dating war chest of advice. I thank you all for reading, your comments and hope you continue to do so.
I’ve had my current online dating profile for two months. I have been persistent, more risk-taking, and I believe it’s a great way to experiment with what works and doesn’t work in attracting women.
I happen to have done something right. I finally managed to set up not only one date, but two (on the same day because I’m efficient/lazy). The flirting escalates to the point of pictures and phone sex with Laura. I thought about it quite a lot, even as I still went on a date with Anne the following morning. Laura continues taunting me throughout the day, even as I leave my phone alone on my date with Anne, Laura’s sending me pictures. I don’t check, but you know. They’re waiting for me when I say good-bye to Anne.
After the show in the afternoon finishes, I hang around Melbourne. I’m turning into one of those young douches walking around with a phone in their hand texting. I’m parched from the heat, even after like, a million free glasses of water I feel dry. I’m not particularly horny as I ponder my next move. Do I keep pursuing Laura for tonight, or do I go home?
I continue hanging around Melbourne. I’ll let the opportunity have breathing space for a few hours. She lives a train ride away. I know her area, but not her address.
I didn’t contact her much during the show. Our banter has simmered down to an almost regular chit-chat level. I mention the show has finished about an hour after it actually had. Am I playing it cool? She mentions she’s cleaning her apartment. Which of course, you only clean your house on a Sunday afternoon around dinner if you’re into it, or expecting company. I don’t call her on it just yet.
I’m not eager, nor nervous. I’m calm, confident.
But I’m also hungry.
I buy a few random bits of food from the supermarket in Melbourne Central. I have a perfect picnic dinner outside the State Library made up of blueberries, a green apple and mint-flavoured fisherman’s friends, which are probably a digestive mistake. Blueberries are awesome. They give me superpowers. So I buy them. I think I may need any edge I can summon later on.
And oh my god, who knew refrigerated bottles of water could be so great? I have a couple. Two because I threw the first out thinking I wouldn’t need another.
I figure I need to work up to asking her to meet. I need to build up from chit-chat to heavy-duty flirting like I had when I somehow induced her to call me up last night.
I text her throughout “dinner”. I’ve been using my phone quite a lot. The battery is down to orange, about a quarter or so left. Talk about weather turns to how much she’s looking forward to getting naked to cool off. She has made quite a point of how much she enjoys coming home after the day is out, and hanging around naked.
I decide to ride the city loop to a train station closer to her suburb so that when I do ask to come over I’m not too far away.
I’m in a train station when disaster strikes. You’re phone battery is at 15%. I always carry around a notepad and pen. I write down her number just in case I’m left without a way to contact her. Do pay phones even exist anymore? It doesn’t matter. I vow to find the last pay phone left standing in Melbourne if I have to.
I decide to move quickly. After just a couple more back and forths, I ask her if she wants to meet. She does. She gives me her address, I write it down next to her number, and she calls me up to give me directions. Turns out that it’s not train I should catch, but a tram and I have to go back to the train station I just came from thinking I was being a real smart guy. Anyway, I tell her I need to turn off my phone for a while to save power, and I’ll turn it back on when I’m closer.
On the tram, I wonder how it’s going to go. I’m at peace with myself. If I have sex with her, yay, if I don’t, it doesn’t matter. I’m fully here, on the tram. She says she’s naked at home. I don’t believe it’s actually true, but just something she says to egg me on. But what if she is naked? What the hell then? What if she isn’t? What if we go through hours of awkward conversation and I leave, she goes about her day? Those are rare thoughts, but they are there. I use the spare time to come up with some new cheesy lines. Be prepared right?
She lives in a pretty sweet area. I sit on a bench near the stop she said to get off. I turn on my phone, sitting there for minutes, trying to find the right words to send her. I could be factual, but I just need a dash of wit.
I send her something that’s not the best, but better that I am here. She calls me up and she walks me through how to find her place, describing the building. I figure we’ll go out for drinks, or talk or something at her place. To be honest I don’t have that many expectations. Maybe it’s the heat. I just can’t be arsed being anxious right now.
Maybe I am a little nervous, my bearings are quite dodgy and I get sort of lost, or wander-y.
I find her door. I knock.
I take it that’s you, she says.
Nope, it’s the mailman, I say sarcastically.
I hang up my phone. There’s no time to be nervous.
She opens the door. Invites me in.
Hey Laura, I say, words dipped in flirtatious desire.
She says something, I’m sure she does. But I’m quite distracted.
She’s only wearing a towel! I follow her into her place, she turns around to lead me. A very small towel, which she hasn’t tied off, but is only holding the ends together.
Well, she’s naked. Towel or not.
Using my astute powers of male observation I determine that her motives are still unclear. However, when she starts fiddling about around her apartment and I’m trying to make friends with her cats, her towel starts “slipping” here and there. It seems she just can’t hold her towel up very well. I finally sit down on the edge of her bed while we talk a little bit. Nothing deep. She sits down next to me, eyes straight into mine, leaning toward me. She is ready to go. I would have to be a complete idiot to misinterpret her body language.
Do you mind if I take off my shoes? I ask, for the sake of banter.
I feel the moment. I should kiss her. I keep looking away, bringing myself out of it.
Without much thought, I ask, do you mind if I take a shower?
She doesn’t. Laura tells me to go for it.
Do you have a towel? She tosses me one.
I move along to her bathroom. I’m pretty sure my brain is vacant of actual thoughts as the cool water runs over me. Did I mention how hot it is outside? Halleluiah to heat, cold showers, and an excuse for me to come out of her bathroom with only a towel wrapped around my waist.
She’s been waiting in the same spot. I return to her bed edge. I just need a little nudge. I use the only cheesy line I can remember. I look into her eyes, and tell her she’s even prettier in person. Is it the truth? Is it a lie? I’m not sure. She’s just Laura. They’re just words.
I lean in and kiss her. My first stone cold sober kiss and it’s completely natural. Unbelievable natural. It just makes so much sense upon the first kiss. How did I ever doubt? We continue kissing as she falls back onto the bed. Her towel has magically disappeared to someplace else.
So within about 10 minutes of meeting within the flesh, we’re having sex. I don’t know what this says about me, or her, I don’t care – we’re having sex.
And a unicorn gallops down a rainbow, giving me the thumbs up and a gold sticker welcoming me to the club of people who have lost their virginity.
It is nothing like that at all.
Once I get started, and especially the second time it is very natural. Fun, pleasant, warm, sometimes disgusting and messy. I’m happy to report that it isn’t awkward or bad like I’ve heard about so many other losing their virginity stories. For the most part it is just fun, especially once we find each other’s rhythm. Surprisingly, I get bored a couple of times, or I just take a breather. Half way through, I think, This is going to make for a good chunk of blog material. Not the best time for such thoughts.
I like to tease and play and toy with people, which I guess translates through the covers. I spent hours finding out what she likes, and what I like, although that wasn’t hard to figure out.
I think I giggled after the second time. She asks me, What’s so funny? Tell me.
Nothing, I say. I can’t say I know why I’m giggling, I just am.
She says I can stay if I want to. I say that I can’t, I give her the excuse that she should get some sleep, she has to wake up early in the morning and I don’t. Really, I still want to have deniability for when I get home. Ironically privacy too, given I’m documenting it very publicly on my blog.
I catch the tram back home into the city so I can make the last train out to my place. I wonder if the other passengers on the tram know about what I’ve just done. I don’t particularly feel any different. I still feel like a virgin, whatever the hell that is. The line between non-virgin and virgin seems redundant. Maybe a weight has lifted. That stupid stigma has been lost. But I feel no different.
Okay, maybe there’s a wee skip in my step. I guess I’ll have to change my bio.
• Nobody told me I would still smell her on me days later. Pleasant, but odd. Or that cuddles can be so wonderful afterwards.
• I didn’t tell her I was a virgin. There wasn’t much of a conversation before we go started.
• You mustn’t have lasted long! Te-hee! Uhhm… I guess this is one thing people are interested in. I lasted quite a while the first time, and really could have controlled myself to go longer as I did later. I have self-control, I’m quite fit, so I know my body and what it can do (being not fourteen).
• Did you make her orgasm? I think so, a couple of times… but I’m an unreliable witness. :p
• Regrets? None yet. She wasn’t the special one, I didn’t love her, but I’m glad I did it.