V-Card Part II: Leave the gun, take the cannoli.

So, my first time.

Let's call my first...First. Keep it simple, right.

I met First during the summer after 8th grade. We were both working at a summer camp (day camp, not overnight), and eventually started talking and hanging out more and more. First was one year older than me, so she was going into her sophmore year in high school while I was just a lowly freshman. Yes, I took a lot of grief from her about being younger, but I suppose her being older was a bragging point with some of my friends.

First: First was about my height (at the time), had long curly brown hair, great smile, and was tons of fun. She had tremendous boobs, I mean gigantic, and an ample booty. She was no runway model, but I wouldn't say she was fat either. We were both virgins when we met.

We dated most of the summer and through the fall and we experimented a lot. We did everything but have sex until December of that year. I got head everywhere, how our parents never caught us is a fucking miracle. First's mom would say something like "Honey, can you and NN go and get the clean laundry from the basement." We would go down stairs, I would get a blowjob then First and I would frantically fold clothes and go back upstairs before anyone got suspicious.

That December First and I talked about having sex, but honestly, the biggest obstacle was finding a place to do it. Sure, we could have had sex in the woods or at a party in the basement, but First's only request was that it take place in a bed. A reasonable request, I suppose.

One night while at her house her parents left to go see a movie, and we went up to her bedroom armed with about 100 Trojan condoms (non lubricated, I had no idea what I was buying). First got naked in her bed, but her dog, this huge fucking maniac Chow named Suki, went absolutely hay wire when I pushed him out of the room and shut the door. I really thought he was going to break it down. Finally, we had to stop and let him in. Actually, we let him in and he chased me all the way down to the living room. Her dad probably trained Suki to do that, but it backfired because Suki later mauled the father and had to be put down.

One afternoon around Christmas First and I were downtown shopping and had an idea. My buddy Chuck (the same one from all my other stories) and his family were in Florida for the holidays, so I knew his house was empty. More importantly, I knew where his spare key was. I researched what bus went to his house, so we hopped on and rode it about 30 minutes to his parent's place.

It seemed like the perfect setting (minus the very classy public bus ride), we had the whole house to ourselves and there was zero chance of anyone coming home and catching us.

When we got there the key was exactly where it always was. I took it out, unlocked the door, then carefully put the key back so I didn't lose it. I opened the door but as soon as I walked in I knew we had a problem, it was only slightly warmer than freezing inside the house. In an effort to cut their heating bill Chuck's parent's had turned the heat down to like 33 degrees before they left for their trip. It was a fucking meat locker inside.

I pointed First toward's Chuck's bedroom and, trying to be smooth, said something like "Go upstairs and make yourself comfortable, I'll turn up the heat.". Meanwhile, I knew full well that I was far too terrified of Chuck's dad killing me to ever touch that thermostat. Rediculously, I reasoned he would notice the spike on his bill on that day and know it was me. I wasn't willing to risk that, so I just walked over to the thermostat, stood there for a second, then followed First upstairs.

Now came the second dilema. Do we have sex in Chuck's room or the guest room. Again, his parent's room was totally out of the question. If his dad would kill me for touching the termostat, imagine the reprocussions from having sex in his bed! It was unimaginable. No chance. The guest room seems like a logical choice, but no one ever slept in that room, so I was afraid that I wouldn't make the bed right, or that First would bleed all over the sheets. Just the thought of that made me nervous. "Oh Christ!" I thought, if something like that happened I would have to join the French Foreign Legion so that Chuck's father couldn't find and disembowel me. Chuck's bed it was. I reasoned, let Chuck explain away the blood or jizz, or whatever else might come shooting out of us, that was his problem.

We both took off our clothes and slipped between the coldest set of sheets I have ever felt in my life. I am certain that if it wasn't my first time I wouldn't have been able to get hard. The sex was awkward and frantic, as you might imagine. Awkward for obvious reasons, frantic because we were bordering on hypothermia.

After about six seconds I came. First ran into the bathroom, and I instantly got naseaus with fear and regret. Up until that point in my life about the worst thing I could do was lose my bike, set my paren't house on fire, or get bad grades in school. As soon as I came I realized it was statistically possible (.001% chance) that I just impregnated a girl, and it nearly scared me to tears. My father is even scarier than Chuck's. So I would rather throw my bike in a ravine, burn down my whole neighborhood, and drop out of school than have to tell my parents that I got a girl knocked up. Actually, I think I would still rather do those things than tell my parents I got a girl I knocked up.

I heard the toilet flush so I pulled myself together. When First came out I took the condom off, stuffed it in my pants pocket, and got dressed. First and I made sure the house was as we found it and caught the next bus back downtown. Just as I was about to walk onto the bus I pulled the condom out of my pocket and threw it into the street (I have no idea why I did that, just accept it and move on).

One week later my phone rang and it was Chuck. He said "So, what did you do while I was away?". I tried to play it cool, I didn't want to blurt out "I'm not a virgin anymore!", so I said some nonsense. He then said "Did you forget something?", I said "I don't think so?". Clearly paranoid, I thought Chuck's dad had found the condom in front of the house and traced it back to me somehow. I said "Like what?"/ Chuck said "Like the condom wrapper in my bed you asshole!"

Yup, just like Clamenza in the Godfather. "Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."

Chuck still holds that against me.

V-Card Part I: My list

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Shut up for five seconds, please!

Last week Bear asked me to help her with her Halloween costume. What was supposed to take a couple of hours one afternoon has turned into a three part, multi-day, arts and crafts extravaganza. Last night was Part II, and sensing my frustration after Part I Bear cleverly showed up with a bottle of vodka as a peace offering. Arts and Crafts 201 ended at around 9:30, and I really didn't want her to stay over, so I decided to fore go sex and we plopped down on my couch to watch a few minutes of TV.

Bear doesn't have a TV, in her mind that is far too conventional, so every commercial and show is mind blowing to her. It's as if all TV programming is from beyond our galaxy. She talks the whole fucking time about how awful everything she's watching is. Finally I had to say "Jesus, Bear, stop fucking talking for five seconds, it's a fucking Travelers commercial. At the end there will be a big red umbrella over someone's head and they will play uplifting music." I realize it was rude, I wasn't trying to be an asshole, but it was a knee-jerk reaction to thirty minutes of constant social commentary. This is my penance for breaking my "no date" rule. Last night was clearly too much of a date.

Poonani texted me yesterday asking if it would be OK for her to bring five of her girl friends to my place on Friday night (Halloween party). Sure no problem, except that the party is shamelessly overloaded with females. By rough estimate, there are going to be 20-25 single girls and two single guys. There will also be an assortment of married and dating couples, but the single ratio makes me a little nervous. My head may explode. No word yet if Kay is coming. I really hope she doesn't.

The girl I lost my virginity to friended me on Facebook. She is married and now has a daughter. That took a bit to settle in.

Dogs and makeup.

As I was driving out of my alley this morning I saw the girl with the dog from my Dogs post. She really seems spunky...or on drugs. It was raining but she was almost skipping down the sidewalk eating an apple, oblivious to the rain. During the few seconds I saw her her dog walked behind her and she did a graceful little spin to unwind herself from the leash. I'll figure out a way to meet her.

Ladies, I have a little gripe with you. Why do you insist on putting your makeup on while driving? What makes you think it's safe to operate a vehicle while applying eye liner? We've all seen this. Women leaning way forward in their seat, visor down, face pressed up against that tiny mirror, poking themselves in the eye with a pencil. Or, same position, but making that stupid face all chicks make, with their lips pressed tightly together like they are kissing something, while they dust their face with that huge paint brush. Can't you do that shit at home, get up five minutes earlier and put your makeup on in a bathroom, with a proper light and a real mirror. It really says something about your inability to plan even the most simplistic tasks.

A couple of observations. The first is I never see really hot girls putting their makeup on in their cars. It's usually old ladies or chicks that, frankly, really should be spending more time on their makeup. What I am trying to say is, if you are "putting your face on" on I-95, perhaps you should reconsider because you look like you put your makeup on at 65mph. Secondly, is your appearance really worth hurting someone by causing an accident? Are you that vain? If I'm on my bike, and a woman applying makeup hits me she had better kill me. If I live I'm not sure I could control myself from dragging her out of the car and driving her lipstick through her larynx.

To be honest with you, I don't even like when girls wear makeup. I hate lipstick and all that other crap on your face. Try wearing nothing for a week. You'll look better and everyone on the road will be safer.

Do all Indian women wear the same perfume?

Before I get into my weekend a quick comment on condoms. Why is it that every time I open and put on a condom it's upside down? Guys know what I'm talking about. You open the wrapper and put the rubber on your dick, but as you go to roll it down you realize it's on wrong and no amount of force or maneuvering will ever make the condom go on more than one inch. This happens to me almost every time. According to the theory of probability and Law of Large Numbers I should be able to correctly guess the top 50% of the time. Billion dollar casinos are built on the very same theories at play here, yet they seem not to apply when my penis is involved. Can't Trojan devise some method to distinguish the top on the condom? Something glow-in-the-dark, or perhaps braille.

Sorry, just venting a little there.

Bear came over Friday night. We had a late night session and one early in the morning. She lingered a little long the next day, though. I had things to do and she was lounging around sipping her coffee.

Saturday afternoon I had planned on having some friends over to watch football and I had invited Poonani as well. However, a few people couldn't make it so I kind of called it off. Poonani texted me and asked if people were still coming over and I said no. She asked if I had plans for that night, which I didn't, so we picked a bar on U Street and met up at 9pm. I showed up at the bar in jeans, an old t-shirt (which I would later regret), and a pair of ratty Asics. Poonani showed up in tight jeans, heals, and a skimpy backless top that left very little to the imagination. We clearly weren't on the same page.

While we were having drinks Poonani was very touchy-feely, she kept touching my arm, or my knee while we talked. I was getting all kinds of signs from her, but I wasn't giving any back, I am trying to keep this on a platonic level. It's not that I am not attracted to Poonani, I just want to see if I can have an attractive female friend without having sex with her.

Side Note: Do all Indian women wear the same perfume? All the Indian chicks I know smell the same, and I'm not saying that in a sarcastic way, I mean literally. I think they wear the same perfume. I'll do a little experiment, I will ask what kind Poonani wears and compare it to another girl I know here who is from India.

Poonani and I eventually ended up at 16th Street Lounge (her choice) where we had a beer and were dancing a little. While we danced we came very close to kissing, but I pulled away and made believe I didn't notice what almost happened. Apparently she doesn't take rejection well because she then bit my neck, hard. I said "What was that for?", to which she replied "No reason.".

Side Note II: While we were dancing I picked up a really strong BO odor. When Poonani looked away I tucked my nose into the neck of my shirt and took a big pull through my nose. It wasn't me. I looked around, but there really wasn't anyone that close to us. Not long after Poonani said "I'm really sweating, I can smell my pits." I don't mind when chicks sweat. Actually, I enjoy sweaty sex, and having sex after a good workout, but there's something about hearing a girl say "my pits" that is kind of a turn-off. It was not the end of the world, just a little distracting.

Around 2:15 we left the bar and I walked Poonani home. By this time we were both pretty buzzed, so when I said good night we ended up making out a little on her front steps. Things could have taken a severely poor turn here if she had invited me up to her place, but luckily she didn't. At about quarter of three I said good night and start looking for a cab.

Since we had been in doors most of the night I hadn't noticed that the temperature had dropped until I started walking around the streets trying to hail a cab. Since it was late and all the bars were letting out I couldn't find an empty cab. I tried a few different corners and even a gas station, but they were all full. I wasn't sure when the Metro stopped running so I thought it would be a good idea to get on a train before three. It would take me over an hour to walk home from U Street, something I wasn't anxious to try in 50-degree weather wearing only a t-shirt.

I was lucky and caught a Metro to Union Station. From Union Station it is about a fifteen minute walk to my house. I tucked my arms into my shirt and walked towards home as quickly as I could. A few blocks into my walk I caught up to a girl who was going in the same direction as me. As I got closer to her I tried to be as loud as possible so I didn't scare her, but I wasn't quite loud enough. When I was just two feet behind her she did a little jump-spin-run-karate-chop move that I think scared me twice as much as I did her. When she calmed down she looked at me and saw that I had no arms, and got frightened even more than the first time. I looked at her and said "I'm cold. I should have worn a jacket. I didn't. That is why I have no arms." and just kept walking. A few seconds later I heard her laughing.

When I got home I put on a sweatshirt, a wool hat, and made myself a giant egg and cheese sandwich.

Is it wrong to bang a midget?

Is it acceptable to say "I really want to sleep with a white/black/Asian chick before I die or get married." Is it wrong to want to sleep with a certain type of girl just because she's different? Is it worse to NOT want to sleep with a girl because of that same difference?

I will use my friends as the test group here and can tell you that most guys want to sample as many different demographics as possible, and we track this very carefully. I'm guilty too. I couldn't wait to tell my friends about the first Asian girl I banged. However, when I told them about the first black girl I slept with they disqualified her because she was only half-black. No partial credit was given.

But why are some demographics protected?

Is it acceptable to sleep with a midget? Is it acceptable to want sleep with a midget just to say you did it?

How about the same scenarios, except now it's a deaf girl instead of a midget? How about a blind girl? How about a really, really tall chick? What about a specific nationality? How about you're out one night and you see a girl that is fat beyond comprehension, and you want to sleep with her just to see if it's logistically possible, and, well, because it will make a great story?

Is the determining factor attraction? Is it only acceptable if you are genuinely attracted to the person, and can look beyond their physical shortcomings? What about intent? Is it only acceptable to sleep with people if you have righteous intentions? These criteria are certainly good guidelines, but we all know that they are not always followed.

Let me give some perspective. Several years ago I was in Home Depot trying to buy a toilet and the sales girl was deaf. She couldn't read lips so I communicated by writing on a pad she was carrying. She could talk, but it was rather loud, and she sounded a bit like the teacher in the Peanuts. The kicker was, she was really sexy. If she was not hearing impared I definitely would have gone out with her. I even considered it, but a bevy of scenarios flashed through my head with me writing on her pad, and I just couldn't do it. Is this wrong? Is it unacceptable to discriminate against a deaf girl you find attractive just because she's deaf? (FYI, I always regret not asking her out.)

Let's backtrack a bit. What about guys that only like girls with really big boobs? Or girls that will only date guys over 6'3"? Are these people any less cruel than someone who only dates midgets? Does the degree of the physical shortcoming have any bearing on our judgement of the offender?

I don't have answers to these, I just thought I would throw it out there.

Diwali

I showed my bike Friday night. I thought I had it sold but the deal fell through on account of the guy being a clown. Back on the market it goes.

Later that night Bear came by for an evening of adult fun, but it really wasn't much fun. Bear's appeal is that she's buck wild in bed, but when she's not being wild she's...well...bland. I guess that kind of crazy behavior isn't sustainable over the long term because it requires an unhealthy degree of one-upmanship. Plus, I think she's looking for something more than a fuck buddy.

Saturday was interesting. I try not to plan any functions in polite society after watching college football because I know that I will not be terribly functional due to hours of afternoon drinking. I went to Chuck's house to watch some games, and his neighbor, AJ (Poonani's brother) joined us for a while. At the end of the game he invited us all over to his house to celebrate Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights. I tried every excuse in the book to get out of it, but he was insistent. Poonani joined us for dinner, as well as AJ's wife and his in-laws. Let's just say that we were a bit rambunctious during dinner. I believe I made a few "Festivus" references, including suggesting we have an "airing of the grievances" followed by an after dinner wrestling match. The in-laws were thoroughly confused and offended.

After dinner I decided it was time for me to go home, I was finally sobering up and didn't want to get entangled in any post-dinner festivus drinking. I thanked everyone and said I was leaving. Poonani said she was heading downtown and asked me if I would give her a ride. Of course I agreed and we left. As soon as we walked out the door AJ's wife asked "Are we OK with them leaving together?".

I drove Poonani downtown and she asked me to join her and her friends for a drink. This was a pivotal moment, if I went out for drinks I was going home with Poonani. I decided to do the right thing and go to my own house. There was an awkward good bye moment where I was clearly supposed to make a move on her, but decided not to at. The main problem is that AJ would blow a gasket if I slept with his sister. I am going to try being "friends" with her.

Throughout all this nonsense I sent Persia a text message that simply said "Hey, it's NN from Thursday, what r u up to tonight?"

Side note: Chuck asked me about Persia and I told him what little I knew, and described what she looked like. His face went a little white when I told him her name. I asked what the problem was and he said that Martin (Kay's ex) had just started hooking up with a girl that exactly fit Persia's description. Same name, same nationality, everything. That would truly be some shitty luck.

I never heard back from Persia, which is strange. She asked me to text her (which I normally wouldn't have done, I would have called), why would she go through all this trouble then not reply?

I shaved my beard this morning, I feel like I am walking around naked.