Mr First

I’ll be honest with you, this blog is about sex. So hide your kids. Well, to be completely honest, most of the blogs will be about sex, but this time, we will get it all out in the open.

Here is a confession that you might not believe. I was a virgin until I was 23. I know, right? Seems almost impossible. But when it came to sex, I really wanted to wait until I was married. Yea, who does that these days? There was just something so special and sacred about saving myself for my husband. At least looking back, I don’t regret not waiting. Perhaps some of the partners in my past, but not for having sex before marriage. Who knew sinning would feel so great. (Well, we talk about that later, too.)

My mother did her best to influence me not to have sex before marriage. She and I would have what she called our “Summer Sex Talks”. My mother was always very open about the topic, and I really appreciated her for it. But she and my grandmother, also took a very technical approach. The downfall of being in a family full of teachers, is that they take great joy in making every topic like a final exam. So learning about the Birds and the Bees was like being trapped in a constant PBS/After School Special. Still, the topic was never off limits, and it actually made my mother and I a lot closer.

So when it came to premarital sex, her philosophy was that I should call her before I actually engaged in the act, just so she could talk me out of it. Imagine, a man on top of me with lust in his eyes, and me saying “One moment please. May I put your penis on hold while I call my vagina’s boss AKA my mother and see if she can engage in the following act”? You will be amazed at how that would not go over very well to your average horny young male. But that was almost what I did.

Mr First was a guy I was dating in college. Actually, he dated another friend of mine, but she swore it was cool that he and I were together. So when we got the ok from her, Mr First and I started our relationship. He was a couple of years younger than me, military, sweet, baby faced, and always made me laugh. I was very open and up-front with him about sex, and he said he was ok with it. And surprisingly, he was. But leave it to hormones to take over the best of us. I finally told him, that I was ready. I was ready to make love for the first time.

Now what you have to understand is that there is a clear difference between making love and having sex. One involves dinner. And for my first time, I wanted to make LOVE. I wanted the soft lighting, the gorgeous candles, the rose petals from the door leading to the bed, everything I saw in the stellar Cinemax films of my youth. Instead I got the best hotel $30 could by in Milledgeville, Georgia. Mr First tried his best to make the night special, but at the last minute, I just couldn’t do it. I had my mother’s voice in my head and my conscience telling me, that this was not what I really wanted. So we gave up that night.

However, a month later, good ole Horny McHornster made her way back. And this time, I was sooooo ready. It was about 10pm and I called Mr First to see where he was. Sadly, he was on his way to visit his parents for the weekend, about 30 miles from where I lived. When I got him on the phone and gave him my long rant about being ready, not backing out, wanting to make tonight special and wanting it to be him, he laughed. I asked him “How far away are you?” He simply replied “I turned around 10 minutes ago.”

So here I was, about to lose my virginity. And I was ready. I was ready for the roses, the romantic music, the champagne. Now, if you are like me, you love horror films. And as mentioned in the film Scream, there are certain rules to horror films. So if my first time were to follow, or not follow those rules, I would be the dead heffer killed in the first scene, because Mr First and I had sex, in a tent, on a campsite, next to a lake. Oh yea, and I’m a black woman. As it is, I wasn’t going to last in the film any way, but losing my virginity at a campsite in a tent, didn’t make the matter any better.

I want to say it was magical, that it was everything I had dreamt it would be. But to be honest with you, it kinda wasn’t. I remember doing long division in my head and thinking “I thought this was suppose to hurt. What should I be doing? Am I enjoying myself?” Mr First was wonderful however. He was caring and kind, constantly asking me “Are you ok? Should I stop?” And I was ok, I really was. After sleeping at the site that night, we had breakfast the next day and he took me home.

It might not have been everything that I had hoped for myself, but it was memorable and with a kind, caring man. Which I know most people can’t say for their first time. Mr First and I continued to date for another few months, and engaged in a lot, a lot of sex. Though he was not the man I married, he did hold a special place in Miss Twyla’s heart. (That’s the name of my va jay jay).

So to Mr First, I say thank you. Thank you for opening open the floodgates (pun intended) and for making a lasting impression on us both.

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