This writeup may constitute
too much information for some people. But since a daylog is essentially a
diary, tough noogies. Five years ago, I became
sexually active for the first time. I lost my virginity on
Groundhog day, which is certainly
apropros considering the person I lost it to resembled a burrowing rodent. I remember composing some bad angsty teenage poetry about the experience, using the lines "Six more weeks of winter/Although I am not his shadow".
Anyhow, here's what happened: I was 19 and was unglamorously seduced while watching "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert". There I was, sitting on rust-colored wall-to-wall shag, innocently enjoying drag queens frolic through the australian outback in yards of fabric and entierely too much mascara when a chubby, acned 17 year old with sweaty hands suddenly pushed me on my back and unzipped my pants.
A moment later, the thought occured to me, "that's someone's mouth on my penis". After the surprise of having someone else's actual mouth on my penis wore off, my irritation grew, how did this boy expect me to pay attention to this sex act when our fabulously frocked protagonists were just about to reach Alice Springs? (Aside: what sort of Drag Queen would choose the name Bernadette?).
Eventually, I followed my sweaty and anxious Don Juan to his bedroom, (although my thoughts were with poor Mitzi) where we went through the terribly awkward motions of various sex acts. Okay, so "various" in this case just means bad oral sex and mutual masturbation. He seemed to enjoy the whole thing a good deal more than I did, and I was starting to wonder if I was really straight. Over the course of that night and the next morning, he had a total of seven orgasms. I had none.
Shortly before parting, he offered me a blank check for my troubles and said he felt guilty for "despoiling" a virgin that he didn't want to have a relationship with and wanted me to leave quickly. Secretly relieved that he did not want a relationship with me, but insulted that he offered me a check as if I were some sort of Hollywood Streetwalker (didn't Julia Roberts at least get cash?), I ripped up his check into tiny bits and threw them into his face and stormed off. A decision I've long since regretted; if the check was good, I could have gotten a nice pullover sweater out of it.