"Let's talk about sex, baby
Let's talk about you and me
Let's talk about all the good things
and the bad things
that may be
Let's talk about sex."
--- Salt N' Peppa
"Hoooaahh - Sex!
C-c-c-c-c-come on!"
--- George Michael
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Self: Yes.
I: Why?
S: I think it would be funny. [smiles, chuckles] Well, that and I don't want to forget too much. As we get older I understand we tend to look back on things with rosier glasses. Maybe I'm already doing that. If I don't write stuff down I'll forget about it. I am always impressed when other people remember things. Like, I asked Josh the other day if he remembers when we first were together, if he remembers our first time. He said yes. I mean, it's something we never talk about; something that happened, oh, a decade and a half ago. And I believe him, but I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. I know I remember. I remember the first time and the second time and a whole lot of other times. There is a something fantastic and matter-of-fact about living stone-cold sober and experiencing significant events this way.
I: You straight edge?
S: [laughs] I used to have an "X Straight Edge X" patch safety-pinned to my backpack, that's how committed I was! I remember Pat Vogel suggesting I sew it on and I felt like a complete poser. I took it off shortly after.
I've never been straight edge; I've always been borderline. I don't really drink, I don't smoke, I don't do drugs, but I have always wanted to experience sex. I've been fascinated with it forever. It's my vice. Love is the drug for me.
I have really early memories of learning sexualization. I remember seeing heroes and princesses and seeing the princess as a sex object, but wanting to be both. I wanted to be the rescued and the rescuer, the good guy. But I also recognized that it was the bad guy who fueled the height of sexual tension. Like, everyone wants the girl. Everyone wants the sex! [laughs] You'd think I'd have learned something from this for later in life, but I am one of the most naive, sexually-fascinated persons you'll meet.
When I was young I had a girlfriend who was a few years older than me. We'll call her Renee. She was a lovechild and would visit her father who lived in my neighborhood every other weekend in the summer, sometimes longer. She was highly sexual; she loved male attention and she hit puberty early. I remember she lost her virginity one summer in Ocean City. The guy's name was Heath and they did it in the water! I was 10 when she told me; she was 13. Heath was probably 16. Anyway, I remember buying a Heath bar -- a toffee chocolate bar -- for the first time and giving it to her. This was my way of talking about and teasing her about sex! I had no idea what she was talking about. I think she said it didn't hurt and felt good. I'm going to call bullshit on that now, but then - what did I know? I didn't know shit then. It was all very romantic to me at 10 years old, but it grosses me out to think about now. I know that's judge-y, but it is kinda yucky. I tell people that story and they think the Ocean City water part is the grossest thing!
I am so glad I didn't get into trouble with her. Later, she started hanging out with more and more local ne'er-do-wells and I had the frame of mind to not stay much longer. I was about 14 when I stopped going over there. Shit got weird. I remember being in her kitchen making Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and this kid was just creeping on me, just following me around and was always where I was. I didn't like him and it felt like he was just waiting to jump on me. I took the pot of mac and cheese to Renee, who was having 'private time' in her bedroom with her boyfriend (who I actually did like), and I got out of there. (There's much more to this story, but I'm going to try and stay on track here. I'll tell you about it another time.)
Anyway, before I had the better judgement to hang out with this girl, we spent some interesting summers together. I remember her mom visiting and we'd walk downtown. Her mom didn't look much like her, other than they were both petite. Renee was blond and her mom was brunette. We walked downtown and got catcalled at. Now, getting catcalled and yelled at was nothing new to me; ever since I'd been a latchkey kid from the 3rd grade I was getting hollered at. There is a particular road from downtown to my neighborhood that is a main thoroughfare. My mom told me to walk on it because there are always people there. So if something were to happen, someone would see it -- would see me if I was getting kidnapped or whatever. But the downside of this street is that inevitably some guy, some teenagers, some men, would "Woo-hoo!" and holler and honk or whatever and you'd be called out as the object of their attention. By later elementary school and middle school I was used to it. I started changing my route.
But this time we were getting hollered at -- Renee, her mother, and me -- was the first time I was with an adult. And she loved it! She and Renee would holler back. They would talk to the guys who stopped. I remember one time being in A.L. Goodies and this man was totally looking down Renee's tank top and chatting with her, telling her she looked good, and she ate it up. It made me uncomfortable.
Renee's dad worked just past downtown. When we were younger we'd bike up to see him. When Renee was older she got a car to drive and we became mobile. Dangerously mobile. I was 13 and she was 16 and her circle of friends grew. I'd meet these other sexy teenaged girls who always dated slightly older teenaged guys and most of these guys drove their own cars. I remember this one sexpot girl waved and yelled to me on Main St. one time when she and her boyfriend were cruising. This is totally a right of passage for teenagers in Annapolis. If you were a townie, you walked up and down the streets. If you had a car, you'd drive the, like, one-mile stretch up Main St. and come back down to circle around the docks. Anyway, the boyfriend wasn't paying attention and was trying to see who she was waving to and he had a fender-bender with the person in front of him. Whoopsie. I'll never forget her.
These girls were something else, goddamn. They didn't wear shoes but wore all types of jewelry; most of their boyfriends wore jewelry, too. Gold and silver chain necklaces. The girls were effortlessly sexy with their cut-off jean shorts, tank tops, braided hemp bracelets and beads, and youthful sun-kissed skin. Renee's crowd was an odd mix of scum -- hot young things and unattractive loudmouths. See, here's where my memory is getting hazy. I feel like some of the boyfriends were attractive and charming, in their wife-beaters and baseball hats and baggy sweatpants. And others were that off-brand scum, with crustaches and wanna-be-goatees and somehow missing teeth already. Teenagers missing teeth! And they all smoked. So their teenaged teeth were already yellow.
And then there was this one kid --- I mean, I had had crushes all my life, but this one kid was, like, the first one to Turn Me On. He was thin and blond, and he smoked. He was so fresh-looking, but also dirty. I remember sitting with him in the corner Burger King, back when you could smoke in restaurants, and he did a french inhale and I almost died. I'd never seen anything like it. I was probably 13. He went to the local school for bad kids. I just looked up their mission statement: "To provide research-based instructional interventions and multi-agency supports to all children and their families." Alls I know is that he was deemed unfit to be at a normal public school, so he went there.
We met him again that winter. It was snowing and we were in downtown visiting him on his father's sailboat. For some reason I thought it was odd that he didn't go to private school; it seemed his family had money. But goddamned, that only made him sexier -- this bad-boy image. He was alone, smoking below deck. Maybe on the bed? I feel like we were all chatting and sitting on the bed. Everything around us was made of wood, as I suppose most sailboats are. Shiny medium-tone, golden brown wood. I recall him bragging about tying his girlfriend down with handcuffs on that very bed and having sex with her and that she loved it; she was into it. I was out of my mind imagining him and this girlfriend of his. I was also super seasick. I remember excusing myself and vomiting outside on the snow. I didn't have the where-with-all to puke onto the frozen water. The snow was coming down and I felt much better. It was very cold. There was absolutely no one else around the docks - no tourists, no one. I remember being very hot below deck, so the outside air felt refreshing. I felt very alone. And while I was attracted to this kid, I sort of knew he was a sexy loser. I don't think we met again.
I remember another set of kids, a brunette couple, whom Renee introduced me to. We swam a lot, those summer days. I remember this sexy, brash, aggressive young man and his very nice, fawn-like girlfriend who had a slight speech impediment. I may have had a crush on him, too, and I was very intrigued by their public displays of affection; they were always making out and he bragged about them having sex all the time. She wore a white bikini and I remember having to watch them slobber all over each other in the pool. Then I remember someone saying she was retarded or slow and I thought twice about him, if he was taking advantage of her. Later I heard a rumor he raped a classmate of mine around the time I met him. The scum was too close to my skin. It's a wonder nothing happened to me the summers I hung out with these fucked-up misfits. I do wonder if it shaped my sexual psyche in some way.
Like I said, I stopped seeing Renee when I was about 14. It was too much and I had little in common with her and her friends. Before, when it was just us, we used to watch t.v., make ramen or mac and cheese, watch movies. But she peaked early I guess, since she was older than me. Watching sex comedies or looking through the porn we found in her dad's room wasn't enough for her; she wanted the real thing.
Believe me, I wanted it, too. But not that way. I was okay waiting for it. Other girls I knew were getting so anxious about life and sex; they wanted to experience it all and now! They couldn't stand the wait, like it was something to get over with and carry a badge of honor about.
My mom had one talk with me about sex that I remember. We were in the car. She broached the topic and her basic setup was, "Save yourself for someone you love," or something to that effect -- make it special. I was raised Catholic, so of course I thought I had to wait until marriage. I knew I liked certain boys and I knew when I was turned on, but I also knew I wasn't ready. I was like Jarvis Cocker in that Pulp song, "I Spy". I wanted to wait for the best.
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