I can’t particularly remember any overtly sexual experiences in my life prior to losing my virginity at age 12. And of course the every now and again self stimulation. Yes we all touch our selves, pick your jaw up off the desk and keep reading. I mean I do have images in my mind of kissing boys in tents at summer camps and playing the classic 90’s game of spin the bottle at basement birthday parties, but my innocence really only escaped me on May 5th, when I was 12. I remember the day because it forever changed me, the way i view sex, and what it means to me today… i think. That, mixed with my selfish cheating single mother raising and exposing me to her outpouring examples of what i should be looking for in a man, most definitely subconsciously led me to make all the terrible decisions i’ve made along the way and realize that what she displayed as happiness in life was not the truth. It was a facade, but this facade nonetheless made the most perfectly dangerous role model situation for this damsel in everlasting distress.
Losing your virginity can sometimes be a taboo topic. At least for me. When i’m asked how it happened, the classic who, when, and where sort of shit makes my skin crawl. I was 12. Naive as fuck. Just months prior to this experience I had my first alcoholic beverage. I started young, but so did everyone else around me so it wasn’t weird until i met people later in life whose experiences differed in the most sheltered way possible that i knew i was ahead of the game, and not in a good way. I grew up in the perfect situation for me to become this overly sexualized and totally okay with it type of girl. My mother and father got divorced when i was going into 5th grade. She cheated on him and moved my younger brother and i into a home with the cheatee and his two children. Different country, different school, different life, different family. And just like that I had to embrace it. I feel as though everything, all the shit I pulled when I was younger, was because I was starved for any sort of attention. I didn’t care what it did to my reputation or my image. As long as I was the problem, I was also the solution.
Back to the whole virginity thing. We eventually moved back to the city i was raised in, and quickly i was thrust full force into the throes of high-school. 8th grade is the starting year here. Every weekend i would go to this place near the beach, it was a building with pool tables, food, drink, and couches. It was pretty much where all the troubled teens of the rich white area that i lived in went to congregate before relocating to the forested area nearby or the actual beach. Every time, there was drugs and alcohol involved.
May 5th. Im getting ready and pre drinking with my friend, let’s call her Haylee*. We’re tipsy and we’re heading to the center near the beach to meet up with some friends. We get there. Start drinking and head to the beach. I remember exactly what I was wearing. True Religion jeans, because they were in style, a white tank top, 2 bra’s because I was severely lacking in the titty department, and this thong that was black with lime green polka dots and a little key chain stiletto hanging from the side. I remember the panties vividly because that was the last time I saw them. I was wasted. On the verge of blacking out but still conscious enough to really relive enough of it whenever I wanted to. Which I never did. This blonde hair, blue eyed, athletic looking guy grabs my waist and starts making out with me, and as he does he slowly brings us closer to the water and farther away from my group of friends.
Blackout. Wake Up. I’m fully naked from the waist down and he’s trying to take off 1 of the 2 bras I’m wearing, fuck. Blackout. Wake up. His hand is on my tit, his face is buried in my pussy, I’m completely fucking naked lying on my back in the sand 4 feet away from the pacific fucking ocean. Blackout. Wake up. Im face down ass up in the sand and he’s fucking me like he doesn’t even know my name, oh wait… he doesn’t. Blackout. Wake up. His dick is in my mouth. Blackout. Wake up. He cums, I’m not sure where. Lights flash on us, cops are here. Everyone starts running. I can’t find my panties. Fuck it, let them be one with the ocean and run bitch. Blackout. Wake up. I’m on a bus back to Haylee’s* house. My pussy hurts. I’m pretty sure I’ve turned into a makeshift sandbox below the waste. Blackout. Wakeup the next day. Realize I had sex for the first time less than 8 hours ago, and that i was fucking blackout for half of it. Was there a condom? Take plan b for the first time. Go home and tell my closest friends i just had sex and that i need to lay in bed with ice between my legs for the next week. I’m pretty excited about it all, but that’s because i was a fucking idiot now that i think about it. He was an asshole.
Clearly I wasn’t too scarred by the experience. I went back to the exact same spot on that exact same beach the next weekend. Met this half black dude who had corn rows, don’t remember his name, but well call him D’quan because that is fucking awesome. Gave him head on the beach while he poured Malibu Rum all over his cock. Was for sure scarred by that experience. In other words, I have yet to drink Malibu Rum since and seriously cringe at those Caribbean commercials, fucking flashbacks man.
And that’s how i lost my innocence. But to be completely honest, was it ever even there?
xo, you’ll never know.