Sex and the Katie

From Katie's perspective again.

Romantic Comedies lie. So do yourself a favor and DO NOT use them as a guide for what to expect when it comes to love. It is because of these movies that my little head got filled up with big ideas about what kissing would be like; everything happens in slow motion, two people lock eyes, eighties soft rock plays in the background, the guy takes the girl's face into his hands, the kiss is soft and sweet and sensual.

Well my experiences have been slightly different. My first kiss happened at a classmate's birthday party my parents insisted I go to. I was thirteen and completely clueless about a game called "Seven Minutes in Heaven". Heaven by the way means a broom closet in case you were wondering. Now I know I am no expert on kissing especially since this was my first but one thought kept running through my head the entire time "should there be this much drool?" Just go with it Katie.

Then there was the boob grab, it's like he was trying to remove them. It hurt but I didn't want to complain because maybe this was how it was supposed to be. If I seemed ungrateful then no guy would go near me again. When I came home that night I saw bruises all over my tiny breasts and just assumed that I did something wrong. This led to me avoiding all things kissing and groping for several years.

My second kiss happened at a tail gate party my junior year of high school. Once again I need to explain that my parents practically shoved me out the door to go. My life functions perfectly fine without football and all things related to it, yet here I was attempting to come out of my social cocoon. the whole thing happened so fast I didn't even realize it until five minutes later when I was able to process it all. Some random guy I had never seen before stumbled up to me, kissed me, then pulled back and vomited off to the side. I really want to believe the vomiting had nothing to do with me and everything to do with all the underaged drinking, but I can't be 100% sure. I guess I'm just not all that good at this stuff. At this point it was just the matter of flipping a coin to decide between a convent or becoming a crazy cat lady.

Making love in Romantic Comedies is usually this epic event. The woman always has perfect hair and make-up, sexy lingerae, and never sweats...this is really important. She also makes sexy sounds that I can't quite describe; imagine a hyena, well the opposite of that. It's a lot of pressure and I just didn't think I was up for the challenge. Virginity suited me well much like being toothless and illiterate suits most southerners. Really don't feel bad about me, I am okay with it all.

Or at least I was. My first time didn't include any Barry White, white votive candles, or a bubble bath. Why a bubble bath? I have no idea, but romantic comedies highly reccomend the bubble bath scenerio. My first time was unexpected and clumsy. Emphasis on the unexpected. Nick and I were hanging out in his room playing Phase 10. Feeling a bit cold he suggested I grab a sweater from his dresser. As I opened a drawer I heard him quickly shout for me not to go in that drawer but it was too late. I saw it. The napkin I had doodled on the day we met.

I turned towards him holding it in my hand, "Why do you still have this?"

He reached for my other hand and pulled me down next to him. He sighed. I could see just how nervous he was about what he was about to say. "This is why you've never seen me have a girlfriend. There's only been one girl I wanted and I just didn't know how to get her."

"I am so confused."

"I'm not. I know how I feel about you. I've known it for a while now, but I was afraid to tell you." He leaned in to give me a soft peck on the lips. No drool, no vomiting. So this is what it's supposed to be like? This is nice. The impulse to run away was completely gone. All I wanted was to drink him in. Or maybe get a little drunk on him.

The only person I've ever undressed is myself and that doesn't always go so smoothly. It's no surprise that Nick's shirt got stuck on his head or that I fumbled with his belt for about five minutes; but just like when he trained me back at Banjo's, Nick smiled and helped me out. Pretty sure patience and hormones don't go hand in hand yet with Nick they did. He kept asking if I was sure that I wanted to do this. All I could do was keep kissing him in response. I've never been so good with words. Then again the kissing thing was new to me too. Hope I was doing it okay. Should people talk about what they're doing during the sex? Probably not unless its things like "harder" or "not that hole". These are things I've heard other people talk about. What hole would be the wrong one? Oh....nevermind.

It hurt. Why didn't I know that it would hurt. Damn my parents for never having the talk with me. And those stupid videos in school only teach you about your mentrual cycle, nothing about sex. Nick was so gentle. He kept asking if I was okay. When it was over he held me and told me he loved me. I didn't say it back. I do love Nick, but I'm not sure in what way or how much. All the sex did was confuse me more. Are we a couple now? Do we have to do this on a regular basis and if so how often? Will I ever enjoy it? I'm sure it wasn't Nick's fault.

Back into my social cocoon. Avoidance was the best approach at this point at least until I figured some things out. Each morning I waited until I had heard Nick leave for the cafe before I left my room to get ready for work. When I came home I would sneak up to my room. Nick kept texting me but I ignored those too. Douchebag was an appropriate label for me. Isn't the guy supposed to avoid the girl after he's scored with her? I felt very 007 about it all or maybe Ann Frank was a better reference. Either way I knew eventually something would have to give.

It did give or at least Uncle Tommy's heart did. Some things trump me feeling weird around the guy who popped my cherry. There was a knock on my bedroom door early evening. During the cold war Nick hadn't attempted to come to me directly, but it was actually Charlie. He briefed me on what had happened, Nick was already on his way to the hospital. Charlie said he had some things to take care of and he would meet us there.

The drive to the hopsital was a blur. Speed walking down the corriders was a blur. Every part of me felt the warmth of Nick's embrace when I fell into his arms. His tears soaked the right shoulder of my sweater. There were so many things I wanted to say. How was Uncle Tommy doing? How was Nick doing? Who was running things at the Cafe? Charlie should be here soon. The rambling noise continued in my head until the whisper of Nick in my ear interupted it, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Why did I want to hold him and run away from him all at the same time? Maybe my attachment to him is because he's so familiar to me. Maybe sex ruined everything. Of all the things I could have said this was what I came up with, "I need to pee." He nodded and I slowly walked away. I walked passed the bathroom, out the door, and back into my car. The ride back to the house was crystal clear. I noticed every tree, traffic light, pedestrian, and random dog that put distance between me and Nick.

Charlie was sitting on the living room floor in the dark strumming his banjo. My words had escaped me. For some unknown reason I was drawn to him in that moment. Darkness was something that seemed to bring Charlie and me together. He was uncomplicated. He was just a guy crashing here until he moved onto his next adventure.

Here is where I went from chaste to whore in the matter of a week. My bestfriend confesses he has romantic feelings for me and I sleep with him. Then confused by everything that follows I sleep with his cousin, our roommate, my other friend on the living room floor. Now I'm certainly no expert on sex, but apparently it doesn't stop hurting. It wasn't just physical though, my heart was hurting too.