Zzzz.  The act of sleeping consists of shut eye accompanied by relaxed heavy breathing.  Then how come people often refer to the verb when explaining their sexual endeavors?  If you say you slept with someone than you certainly did not get much rest.  Then again, raunchy phrases like, ‘rolled in the hay,’ ‘made whoopee,’ ‘got in the sack, ‘bumped uglies,’ ‘tapped,’ ‘banged,’ or ‘shagged,’ explain the deed in terms not as serious as making love.  Whether or not we choose to define sex as exact or not, the act is conveyed and carried out under different pretenses and understandings.

In my pre-teen years when I had no idea what sex truly was, I deemed the entire action as an, ‘it.’  Whatever it was, one would eventually, ‘do it.’  Listening to Marvin Gaye in his seductive deep voice beckoning, “Let’s get it on,” made me blush.  Could someone actually make love to me one day, baby?  What would it feel like and who would it be with were questions that raced through my innocent mind.

Unfortunately, I had a bad start to the world of loving relations with the opposite sex.  The time was second grade and the scene was on the rough and tough playground during recess.  A game of tag with my arch nemesis, Michael Smith*, was interrupted by his lips on my mouth.  Completely startled, I pushed him away from me and kicked him in the shin.  He cried and I was met by my disappointed mother in the principal’s office.  The end.

At fifteen, the idea of cooties began to wear off, and my curiosity began to make way for adventurous pastures.  This urge was for reasons beyond being horny.  I have never wanted to go bungee jumping, shoot a loaded gun, or take acid.  Sex was something I needed to try.  However there were obstacles.  My virginity was sacred and at stake.  You only get one first time.  It was not that I placed my virginal value on a pedestal, but that I wanted the right partner.  I wanted it to be real.

My first opportunity was an utter disaster, except I did not kick him in the shin.  Incandescent street lights glowed upon the romantic cul-de-sac where my afro headed boyfriend’s Volvo was parked.  As we fogged up the windows for the umpteenth time, I knew he was eventually going to ask for it.  Like a freaking psychic, he looked me in the eyes and asked me if I was ready.  I guess my deer in headlights reaction was enough prompt for him to whip out a condom.  My head was light, and my limbs were jello.  In complete fear and everything in slow motion, I caught my bearings and backed away in halt.  He nodded silently and reached for his clothes.  I give him credit for simmering down his raging hormones and being understanding.

While I was in this young and excited faze seeking the right sexual venture, Nancy was on a different scheme and pace.

You know what I think is bullshit? That Taylor Swift song “Fifteen”.

“Cause when you’re fifteen, somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them?”  If someone told me at age 15 they loved me I would have done one of a few things:

    · Said, “mom… I love you too”
    · Laughed
    · Written his name down in my journal where I put all of the boys who were unfortunate enough to fall for me

But in all seriousness I was about as far away as you could be mentally from accepting another person into my life emotionally, let alone sexually. Carly took romps in the backseats of cars on her Friday nights, I watched Disney movies with friends on mine.

There are a few memories about sexuality that will always be vivid in my mind. One was when I was reading a “Seventeen Magazine” and there was a column where a letter written in was about a 16 year old girl who was having sex with her boyfriend. I was HORRIFIED! Just imagine, a sixteen year old having S-E-X? It was hard to fathom at the time, and looking back on it isn’t that when a lot of girls first did it. Another thing I won’t forget is having one of those girly talks with middle school mean girls that you could pretend for the moment were your friend since she wore a lot of Limited Too clothes. I posed a question, “Sure you can imagine having sex but could you actually imagine who it would be with?” It seemed like she was comfortable with some mystery man doing the deed but I couldn’t say the same for myself.

Its not as though I haven’t devoted a fair amount of time thinking about this subject and why the thought of sex made me so uncomfortable. Though I do consider myself a Catholic… I think all those years of Jesus School kind of messed with my head. “THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY!!!” I’ll take the late night showing of The Lion King over fire and brimstone thankyouverymuch.

I guess that is what gave rise to the fact that I am a notorious tease/flirt. It became ok to suggest, to joke about, to relish the attention from the boys. It would stop there. Once I got the attention, the awkward comment, the invitation to Homecoming , it was all over. “You want me. I win.” Messed up right?

When I was 15 and girls like Carly would get so caught up with boys I would laugh at them and think they were brainless idiots. I considered myself so above that silly stuff, but ultimately I wonder who was the more mature person about it now. We all have to go through the baby steps to get into the real deal relationships and Carly has it down pat. Me? Im still reading Seventeen Magazine.

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