FIRST TIMES. POEM

Virginity
Never seemed to be a
Mind-burdening problem for me
I think
Honestly
At the age of sixteen
I was much more concerned
With my GCSEs

Coming from
A childhood
Where “Sex” was
Something I understood –
Thanks to my mother’s
Openness
About ‘jiggy jiggy’
And the thing that gets sticky
And the meaning of a “quickie” –
We came
To terms
With adult words
Perhaps a lot sooner than we should’ve

As us four, however
Slowly matured,
That carefree guilelessness
Rapidly ensnared
A gathering of elephants
That slowly amassed
In one tiny room.
What could we do?
One couldn’t
Simply
Pass the salt
Whilst openly discussing
Their hymen’s breakthrough

Sure, my friends would
Groan and sigh
Why
Can’t it be the love of my life
Who pops my cherry.
Ugh.
I always winced at that turn of phrase.
Whereas others would relay
Their illustrious tales
Of random men
Or a distant mate
That they’d bonked in a bush
Or the loo
Or the sack
Or round the back of some unknown estate

I decided instead
To turn my head
From this
Smorgasbord
Of fictitious accounts.
I’d lived long enough
Without
This phenomenal experience
Surely, I couldn’t be missing out.

Three weeks into
A novel chapter
I found myself in unknown territory
The first time
I’d felt love for another
Pushed my mother
To laden me
With a kilo of rubber
Tucked nicely into the lining
Of my sheepskin jumper.
Thoroughly hidden –
Or so I thought –
Until
Unbeknownst to me,
A young whippersnapper
Brandished one of the wrappers
To the entirety of my cohort.

CRAP.

My face
Convulsed
As the laughter disbanded.
Praying
He wouldn’t think
I had some big night planned,
I waved my hand
To sudden suggestions of
Sexual inclination –

A condom?

For tonight?

Oh don’t make me gag.
Honestly, that’s always been in my bag.

Raised eyebrows
Provided
A mild dose of assurance,
As the night wound low
And taxis rode home.
Smirks and promises of
CALL ME FIRST THING TOMORROW
were made
As I came
To the spare room alone.
“Sleep well!” He sung,
As my door was slammed shut.
Was he joking?
Perhaps not,
As he reappeared so fast
My head almost fell off.

Right.
What now?
We hadn’t a clue.
Both stood
Fully clothed
And visibly suffocated
By that familiar elephant
Like two lemons at the zoo.

Come on Christi
Pull your weight!
Screamed the voice from inside.
Nervously trying
To act alluring,
My foot got caught
As I slid my body
Precisely to where
I hoped we’d recline.

FUCK.

This was definitely not
The romantic scene
I’d pictured as my first time.
Arms flailing like spaghetti
I started to panic
And grabbed onto the closest thing
To stop myself from falling.

Between my hands, what did I find?
Blindly turning the cover
The right way around
I managed to decipher
With all the strength I could muster:
Dr. Seuss’
“Oh the Places You’ll go!”
Painfully ironic?
Yes, I believe so.

At this point
I realised
He appeared quite perplexed.
“Oh, you know this one?” I panted,
Hoping he’d interject.

No?

NOTHING?

Internally I moaned
As I foresaw the childish fool
That really would be left alone.

“It’s my favourite bedtime story!”
“I can’t sleep without it!”

What the fuck was I saying?
Could I be more off-putting?
Just quickly start reading
Maybe he’ll come to his own.

Luckily
He played along with my
Improvised skit
That was until
I genuinely started feeling the heat.
With such controlled subtlety
I began removing my top
With murmurs of
“Uh…this room’s kinda hot.”

“Hot?”
He immediately replied.
In a flash
The window was open
And he’d pulled down the blind.

Well.

I guess this is it.

Here we go.

But the blindingly well-lit room
Was really killing my flow.

Did people really have sex in the light?
It didn’t seem a bit
Awkward
And painfully bright?

Not wanting to seem rude,
I did the best yawn I could fake
To try and speed up this business
For both of our sakes.

Once he’d clocked my
Clearly artificial fatigue,
Almost telepathically
-Or so it seemed-
We both silently squeezed in
Between
Mattress and cover.
The last thing I remember
Was a shiny red square
Being brandished from a drawer.
My eyes softly closed
As I anticipated the smother –

“WAIT!”

He yelped.
My eyes sprung open.
Did I miss a step?
Had the “foreplay” overrun?
I silently cursed myself for jumping the gun.
Was there an alternative route
he’d intended to pursue?
“Your socks,” he mused
They just won’t do.”

My socks?

Right.

Um, okay.

He’d clearly been planning this
In quite some depth.
So one thing led to another
– I won’t divulge the rest –
But I can honestly assure you
That at best
It took at least three tries
And reassuring replies of
“I’m alright, let’s try it again”
Before cheers and smiles were felt from within
In the most wondrous state of bliss
One could imagine –

That was,
Until the next morning.

Let’s rewind to a few hours before.

When we finally,
You know,
Got it right
I let myself sink into slumber
After checking the rubber
And kissing my lover goodnight.
Little did I know
Either he was more drunk than he appeared
Or he simply didn’t know where to dispose of the gear

So where did it go?

Ah! But of course.

Right out
The window.

Onto the doorstep
For all of London to see –
But for one single man particularly:

His father.

HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE!?

If only I’d told him to
Wrap it
In a scrap of tissue
Then perhaps he wouldn’t have tossed it so carelessly.

Ah well.
Life’s too short to
Regret teenage pitfalls
But let my experience be a lesson to you all –
Enjoy it. You’ll only lose your virginity once
And I assure you that
You’ll find yourself in cahoots
When reflecting on things
That didn’t necessarily go as planned
And learning for the times
That will follow suit.

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