To understand my journey following my diagnosis of infertility, I think it’s important to reflect on where I’ve come from. I kept diaries for a significant period of my life, starting when I was 10. Diaries, for the record, are great ways to recall how ridiculously self-absorbed, dramatic and immature we once were. I’ve found several entries that relate to my sexual history and some I will share.
In later entries, I admit to myself that I thought I was too young to be having sex but I don’t regret it and despite my young age, it was fully consensual.
I’m yet to meet a woman whose first time was amazing but by all means, drop me a comment if you’ve met a magical lady who has.
Extract from my diary 23 December 1998:
I have to tell you what I haven’t been able to tell anyone. I slept with R. Oh my gawd! Goddess, Goddess, Goddess. I did. I did.
See here’s the go: R was picking me up Saturday morning to take me up the coast to catch up with my family. Well, all that still happened except that R arrived an hour earlier than I expected him to. I was in fact still asleep. It was the doorbell that woke me.
He came in and I got back in bed because I was cold. We sat on my bed for about 45 minutes, talking, mucking about and him trying to persuade me to get out of bed. I just kept laying there, insisting on wanting to go back to sleep. Had I got up, it never would have happened.
We started out as usual, kissing heavily, him touching breasts, kissing breasts, fingering, pulling. All done before. After, I don’t know, 15 minutes, he started pulling down my pyjama bottoms and lifting up my singlet. My undies were going down with the pyjamas and pretty soon I was exposed from mid-thigh to my neck. He was getting very, very horny. He rolled me on top of him and started pulling down his shorts.
Knowing full well there was no turning back, I broached the subject of protection. Lying on top of him, I said “If we’re going to do this …” and he cut in and said “I was just about to say would you like me to go out to the car?” I said yes and he rose, pulled his shorts up, put his shoes on and went to get some condoms.
I took off my clothes from where they were bunched around my neck and ankles and lay in bed waiting. I remember thinking to myself, “Oh my goddess, what are you doing?”. But I decided I didn’t really care and I wanted to do it so …
He came back in, put two condoms on my bedside table, took off his socks, then pulled off his shirt. Then he stood back, pulled down his shorts, paused a second, then pulled off his undies and stood naked before me. He looked so funny, standing upright to attention. Then he climbed into my bed and under my quilt.
We kissed a little but on our sides before he pulled me on top of him again. A few adjustments with his hand and he entered me. Oh my GODDESS! THE PAIN! I was almost going to scream when he started thrusting.
After about 10 seconds, it was OK. It was sort of numb and I couldn’t feel it. He grabbed my hips and moved me up and down on top of him. He came. At last. I didn’t. No surprise. Then he went limp and lay there exhausted.
Feeling the awkwardness arising, I asked him if it had a name. Of all the fucking questions, I asked if his penis had a name! He laughed and said it didn’t. We lay beside each other, naked and shaking.
Then I had to have a shower and I walked out of my room and up the hallway as he watched. So there. That was the first time I had sex.
Note: While I am editing out the unrelated content from my extracts, I haven’t changed the language at all. I should explain that in high school I believed in a Goddess, not a God, and hence swore accordingly.
I really did ask if his penis had a name and I blame it on the Judy Blume book Forever in which Michael names his penis Ralph.
I also sought and received permission from R to share this story.
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