First Times for Sex, Hot Springs and Mosquito Bites
What makes a “first time” memorable?
I remember my first ørg@sm, 32 years ago now, very well. Nothing I’d ever seen, heard, or read about it did it justice. Who knew, for instance, the feeling would travel all the way down to my toes?
I couldn’t stop laughing about how crazy novel and insanely intense the sensation was. I can clearly picture the place, person, and mechanism, and the memory is, obviously, a marvelous one.
I also recall my first period and my first kiss clearly, though losing my virginity, well, not so much. Perhaps the memory dissipated because the act was neither seriously painful nor particularly fun. I just remember it being sort of unpleasant and feeling both glad I’d gotten it over with and sinful for having done so.
My Catholic upbringing in Venezuela had instilled in me that I’d be cursed for life for having sex outside of marriage. To this day, my hangup is such that spelling out ORGA$M is more than I can handle — though I almost had it just now.
In any event, many women remember these sexual or physical firsts well. Is it because we’re primed to remember them? After all, Hollywood movies and romance novels portray them as life-changing. Then there’s society, or at least the Catholic one I grew up in, which…
