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The Wet Spot Diaries

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I was inexperienced, naïve, scared, and totally grossed out with the thought of exchanging bodily fluids of any kind. He was tall, blonde, ripped, and more than willing to usher me into what would hopefully be a joyous celebration of my sexuality. I remember him fondly…a man who took his time…and promised to tell his fraternity brothers the next morning that he fell asleep in the car, instead of stuck to the wet spot of my 100 count cottons.

It seems to be a fad of late to revisit our 16-year-old pubescent selves, and with the benefit of hindsight offer up words of wisdom to reassure that gangly brownie-baking geek that everything will be okay. Lighten up…love yourself…live for the moment…resist cosmetic surgery, but most of all, keep your sense of humor. One day you may take a job at a mattress warehouse store and find yourself doing the street corner boogie to commuter traffic in a Sealy Posturepedic sandwich board. For that you’ll need to draw laughs from every funny bone in your body…or take stronger drugs.

With this in mind, I have begun to pen my explosive new memoir called DEAR ME: A LETTER TO MY DEFLOWERED SELF.

Let me start by saying, I was a late bloomer. While most girls were swapping their training bras for full-fledged cups and experimenting with their sexuality, I was spending exhausting hours stuffing my sunken chest with bobby socks.

And when I wasn’t padding that trainer, I was squeezing the hell out of my Mark Eden Bust Developer. That spring loaded pink-clam got a real workout…enhancing my triceps beautifully, but not a buxom inch of cleavage to show for it.

Puberty was a cruel master. All my friends seemed to be finding the perfect asshole to pop their cherries. I was instructed in proper blowjob etiquette and technique well before I’d ever laid eyes on a penis. “Look up at him with your best Bambi-doe-eyed vamp glance and proceed to work that thing like it owes you money.” They recounted smells, swells, and that rare occasion when the dingy actually slipped effortlessly into the marina. And as all this activity probed and penetrated my innocence, there I was…home alone in my toxic bright yellow single bed, reading the Nancy Drew series from cover to cover while picking corn kernels out of my braces.

In doing research for my deflowerment novel, I have decided that it would be unfair to give just one version of how the seal was broken. Instead, I decided it was only right that I contact my first lover in order to give full recognition to the man who stripped me of my clothes, my dignity, and from the look of the sheets, a fair share of my type A-negative.

With these glorious memories in mind, I began my hunt for “first boink.” Searching online, scouring phonebooks, writing personal ads, hiring investigators, tapping phone lines, hacking computers…I even resorted to conducting a surveillance stakeout. I went to these great lengths wanting him to understand his role in my life. Somehow I was certain he felt the same.

Upon securing his number, you can imagine the butterflies I felt dialing those digits 30 years later.

Me:  Dale?

Boink: Who’s asking?

Me:  This is Annie.

Boink: Who?

Me:  Annie.

Boink:  Sorry, I’m drawing a blank.

Me:  Remember? We met in a bar. You were with some drunk friends…I drove the whole bunch of you home in my Volkswagon.

Boink: Tall? Brunette?

Me: No, sort of average height with blond hair.

Boink: “Sugar Hips”… That you?

Me:  Ah, no. Not “Sugar Hips.”

Boink: Give me another clue.

Me:  OMG, this is awkward. Okay, I knew you in college.

Boink: There were 40,000 students. You need to narrow the playing field.

Me:  We were friends for a couple months in 1977. GOOD Friends.

Boink:  Good friends?

Me:  With benefits…

Boink: If this is some sort of paternity suit, just keep dialing cuz’ I’m not your man. Besides, that kid would be going through his first midlife crisis by now.

Me:  I didn’t call for money…or about a baby. I am calling because you took my virginity.

Boink: Oh shit…a vengeful woman.

Me:  No, actually I’m writing a book about my first time.

Boink: You’re kidding, right?

Me: No, I’m not. I’m writing about my first sexual experience…with you. The man who opened the door to what has now become a completely fulfilling exploration of sexual delight. Before you, they used to call me the Ice Queen…so I guess I just wanted to say…thanks for planting your flag in my polar cap.

Boink: Wow…you’re welcome. Women have always told me  I have an uncanny talent for breaking the ice.

Needless to say, I am reassessing the book. Thirty years later I guess I was looking to embellish the significance of that moment, and make it more than it really was. An attempt at revisionist history, with the hopes and dreams that he would provide the emotional depth and detail it so deserved.

Oh hell, who am I kidding? The expectation of sharing that sentimental touchy, feely, warm and fuzzy stuff is SO over-rated. Maybe this is all I needed. After all, I can’t remember much about that night either.

 

 

 

 

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49 Comments

  1. Oh, jeez, I’m laughing so hard! Oh wait. This was a tender tale?

  2. Lee…I’m glad “my first” made you laugh. Actually…this is an embellished version…like most of my stories!

  3. I can honestly say for the first time ever reading a blog I am lost for words!!!!

    But I did laugh out loud, It would make a super basis for a pilot episode of a programme on one of the Romcom channels.

  4. Oh Robert, I’m not sure being lost for words is a good thing, but I do like the idea of a pilot episode for a program. That would be a kick!

  5. It’s so easy to get lost in thoughts of your past and waste time in the present and I’m constantly reminding myself of what your first paragraph included. Annie you are so awesome at mixing great stories with great bits of humor…but I bet you already knew that didn’t you?

    • Thank you, Nate. I sort of got off-track from where the original paragraph was going. That’s just how my life seems to progress lately. It starts out with great intentions, but then it moves south with alarming speed. Thanks Nate for hanging with me. You are a gem.

      • As long as your first time didn’t start out with great intention and then move south with alarming speed…!

        It’s funny how things occur. I’ve been contemplating a blog on this very subject for a short while as well. But simply didn’t have the balls to write it.

        Now I’m glad I didn’t. It would never have measured up to yours.

        • Tobin,
          I want to read how you would tackle the subject! A male’s point of view would be a enlightening. Go for it!

  6. The Dale Boinks of the world should hope they deflowered virgins as brilliant as you so they can forever be immortalized in such a manner as this, Annie.

    I sit at my laptop before every post, look up, squint at where you are, and say, “There’s where I hope to be some year”…I like to dream big.

  7. Annie, the humor in this book of yours would instantly make it a best seller! I for one would be lining up in Barnes and Noble, ready to read your tell all! As I read your post all I could think was, isn’t it great how many years after that “first time” you can look back and laugh? I remember how upon the completion of my first nooki, all I could think was, is that it? Is this what I’ve been saving myself for? Yes, thank goodness that time awards us with laughter years after the fact. :)

    • You are kind to say you’d buy The Wet Spot Diaries. Yes, it is great that we can have a good laugh about our first. Bella, thanks for always offering such wonderful comments.

  8. You had me at the Mark Eden bust developer! I not only had one, too, I sent away for replacement springs! You’ve got something good here, Annie. Love the dialogue. I have some writer-to-writer type thoughts on it. If you’re interested, e-mail me.

    Or I could just go fuck myself. At least I know it would be better than MY first time. ;)

    • Jayne,
      Love the fact that you pumped that Mark Eden Bust developer with me! I didn’t know they had replacement springs. Wow…I may have to pull mine out again! I’ll be contacting you. At the very least your last sentence should win an Amana Freezer, a luggage collection from American Tourister…or a dinette set from Broyhill!

  9. Annie, this is hysterical! And it’s definitely something I’d buy and read again and again, kind of like a David Sedaris book. I love the carefully chosen words (“penetrated”) and the consistent humor (the mattress job!). Priceless.

    • Thanks so much, Laura. Man, would I like to write a book like Sedaris. That guy is one of my favorite when it comes to humor and timing.

  10. In theory your introduction to boinking should be a beautiful and momentous occasion for a young woman. However I don’t know a single soul for whom this was true.

    I remember feeling awkward and uncomfortable and (don’t ask me why) the TV was on and Sesame Street was on. My good friend had her first experience on the couch and she bled like a stuck pig resulting in a huge horrifying stain which led to the whole thing quickly becoming family news.

    Perhaps this is the one thing Twilight got right about the first time – they have sex, it’s messier than anybody expected, and they uncomfortably avoid each other afterwords ;)

  11. Hi Alexis, I have to agree with you…I don’t know anyone who claims to have had a perfect first time, but we all remember something. A feeling of awkwardness…Sesame Street blaring in the background (BTW, that is hysterical!) or the dreaded stain. I haven’t seen Twilight but you definitely sparked my curiosity. Thanks so much for stopping by and commenting.

  12. Annie,

    If there was a laugh award for comedic writing, I would bestow it upon you. Your stories never fail to tickle me pink and I’m always going “No, couldn’t be!” SMH. That may be part of their delight, your not so inconsiderable writing skill aside, the delicious wonder of what is real and what’s imagination. In either case, your labyrinthine mind is a wonderful place ;)

  13. Thanks so much, Coco. That was a great comment to come home to!

  14. LOL! Wonderfully funny, Annie. And the “dingy” sailing into the “marina” analogy… *snort*

  15. Hey Nicky, I truly appreciate it! Great fun coming from you!

  16. Great topic to share. I like the lightness of which you recall what is usually a moritfying experience.

    • Thanks so much, Lisa. I’m not sure everyone thinks this is a good topic to share…maybe some would rather I kept it to myself, but hopefully lightness helps digest it! Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

  17. Hahahaha! Some things are better left in our memory and not on paper;)

  18. First, I love the title! And “being home on my toxic yellow bed picking corn kernels from my braces” …I laughed out loud. I love reading your posts. You have such a gift for humor.

  19. Thanks a million, June. Coming from you…the queen of humor, that means a lot.

  20. Annie Annie Annie! You hit a grand slam home run with your title and then it just kept getting better. (Actually, that’s a lot like the real thing, isn’t it? Sex is better after we hit 40 or so.) Love this! You rock, Lady!

    • Thanks so much, Linda! Glad you liked the title and the rest of my tacky tale. It really was fun to write. I even passed it on to the First Boink. Still waiting for his response. Not holding my breath!

  21. Ah, the first time. My boyfriend and I were just talking about how much we DON’T remember. What I do remember is this; I lied to my parents and told them I was staying at a friend’s house in NYC, when in fact I went back to ‘his’ place after a Clash concert, and the condom slipped off and was still in me, only noticing it, after I gingerly walked to the bathroom, and sat on the toilet. How’s that for romance?! I just love your writing.

    • Dani, you crack me up. That is a visual…you “gingerly walking to the bathroom only to witness an escaping condom. It is so funny what we remember…a Clash concert…a fly circling, the shade of wallpaper. Definitely the first time is rarely about romance. Thanks for your funny comment and compliment!

  22. “Women have always told me I have an uncanny talent for breaking the ice.” BWAHAHAHAHA Oh shit, comic gold, that one! I absolutely adore your writing style and ability to tell any story with such swimmingly endearing humor! (I’m also entirely floored/entertained you had the testicular fortitude to track that bloke down for “his side of the story”!) Love love love this! I’d utter those silly words: “Now I don’t feel so bad”, except that my first was clearly so traumatizing, I’ve completely forgotten every last detail! :D

  23. Miss Annie V. Sorry that your first was so traumatizing. Doesn’t exactly make you feel like getting back on the joy stick. Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. I sure appreciate it!

  24. Wow…I didn’t even know training was out there for that first time. I probably could have used some training and as I look back so could he have. Of course though, 48 years later and I’m still married to him and have enjoyed the rest of the story immensely. He trained very well. hahahahaha

  25. Peabea,
    That’s pretty cool that 48 years later you are still in training. I’m sure you’ve got it right by now. Thanks for stopping by and commenting!

  26. I’m sorry – I was laughing, OK, I am still laughing. The dialogue sequence is priceless. I suggest the book be about firsts.. and do the same, and if you don’t have enough firsts, make ‘em up. Your imaginary moments of firsts.. I dare say you have the material, and your wit is a cut above.

    • Hi Brenda,
      Thanks so much. It would be fun to write a book about firsts. I don’t know if I’d get a lot of people wanting to bare their souls, but I think it could be entertaining. Thanks for stopping by!

  27. I am lost for words, because I am laughing too hard. OMFG. I will come back to leave a better comment when I collect myself!!!!!!!!!!!

  28. Wow, great story! Nothing like a good old reality check, though. But I think we women always tend to put more meaning into things than men do. For him it was just another roll in the hay. :)

  29. Pingback: The 10 Things My Sweet Sixteen Year Old Self Would Ask My Forty-Something Year Old Self | We Work For Cheese

  30. Nicely written, Annie, and it made me think. I recently contacted my first serious girlfriend after nearly 25 years. I thought she’d have some sort of interesting reaction — happiness, sadness, anger. Anything. But all she said was, “Yes, I remember you. Nice to hear from you.” It was quite a letdown.

  31. Hi Mike, thanks for the nice comment. It is so true. Sometimes we hold people close to our hearts for long pieces of time thinking that our experiences must conjure up mutual memories of fondness. It is quite disappointing when you realize that it might have been one-sided. Oh well! Onward and upward I say! Sure wish life always turned out the way we wanted, but I think that’s what makes the ride entertaining.

  32. You are a braver woman than I just to entertain the idea of talking to Mr Where No Man Has Gone Before. Bravo!

  33. Thanks Tattytiara! I appreciate you stopping by and leaving a comment. If Nicky sent you this way, I owe that girl big time. Looking forward to reading your blog.

  34. Late to the party but ahh shiznit you still got it [LOVE READING] what you lay down!!!

  35. Thanks so much, Diva!!! Real good to see you. Hope all is well. Sure appreciate the compliment and the visit!

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