TELLER

Crossing over from the ninety’s to the year 2000 was a stupid time. I hated it. In fact, if you want me to be truthful; I fucking hated my whole teenage life. It was a complete joke. This is called Virginity because at twenty-six I still am – of course I’m not! Yeah say what you want about me, I was a late bloomer. So what? Screw you I’m proud of it. I’ve made myself look like a fool in front of a lot of girls now. Some of them loved it, some, not so much. This is about me losing my virginity and what I thought about it, then a little later on I’ve got some stories and a bunch of opinions about other stuff and shit.

If you’re asking me what I thought about losing my virginity when I was just seventeen years old I’ll tell you. It was a total waste of my time and I wish I hadn’t done it. You think that’s bullshit? It ain’t a lie brother. I mean, what kind of gratification could I possibly gain from finally having sexual intercourse? Physical satisfaction? NO. Mental stimulation? Not on this occasion. Sex meant as little to me then as it does now. Nothing. Nada. Now you might find that a little strange coming from a young man in the prime of his life. You may even think I’m on drugs while I write this but I ain’t. I hate the stuff.

As you read through this little book of words you will find how lucky, and unlucky I have been in the competitive world of sex and yes the unlucky part by far outweighs the lucky but that’s just me. Maybe you will understand how sex really don’t mean a thing to me. Maybe you will already know this before you read on. And if you feel the same, then good on you. I like your thoughts. When you read this little story about how I chose to lose my virginity don’t pity me. I want you to understand the pressures and thoughts that swamp a young man’s mind. How he can be warped by the media; from what he reads in magazines and sees on TV or maybe from idle shit-chat by ‘friends’. And don’t even get me started on internet porn in fact I’ll talk about that later. It’s a warped world out there and I am just a living, breathing product of it. It’s a shame but that’s how it goes I guess. Make your own mind up ’cause I dunno.

So first up, let me tell you about the girl. I can’t even remember her face. But I can remember the problem it caused around my circle of friends. Suddenly I was a problem to them, a subject of jealousy – an outcast. Don’t bang a girl that is in the same circle of friends as you that’s the message. It’s not worth it, trust me. I was different because I was the only virgin left, yeah the late bloomer finally pop’s his cherry. I guess I still had that innocence and the softness that my peers and friends had lost. Half of them were liars anyway so who really knew if they had fucked anyone or not? It was all bullshit to me.

There were girls in my class at school. One of them I liked – A LOT. She had short, blonde hair, full, pink lips; blue eyes like shot glasses that hit you in the balls when you made eye contact. Well at least that’s what I thought. We ended up having to study Romeo and Juliet in class and guess who got picked as the lead characters by my teacher? By the way I think my teacher was a paedophile. I know he left school a year later suddenly and suspiciously. Anyway, this girl and I were cast as Romeo and Juliet. I guess I shouldn’t use her real name but I’m going to anyway. Her name was Scarlett.

Scarlett was noisy, arrogant but oh so beautiful. She didn’t give a damn about school and was in retake class like me. Affectionately known as retard class around my school, it was meant for people who had failed in subjects the year before and were staying on that extra year to try and make up their grades. Hey, it wasn’t my choice! My parents made me stay on – another reason why I hate them. Back then I did exactly what my parents wanted me to. What a croc of shit that was.

So, back to Romeo and Juliet. The paedophile teacher thought we should act this shit out to make the story easier to learn. Fuck it, it seemed like it might be a bit of a laugh. Maybe I could become an actor? Or a tour guide at a museum? Acting out battles and shit? That’s what I want to do. Acting and shit.

So this girl Scarlett is leading me on right. We decided to meet up in the park one evening to go through our lines. It was just some local park that some of the guys at school used to go to on break; to smoke and fight and stuff. I had this mobile phone that I had saved up for; the Vodafone GSM Maxim MX-6814. It must have cost like sixty or seventy pounds then, no colour screen, no internet, no camera and guess what? I thought texting was free! What a douche. So there’s me texting this girl off the scale because I thought that shit was free wondering why she isn’t meeting me in the park to practice our lines as star crossed lovers should. Did she fucking turn up? Hell no. Did she ever come back to school? Hardly, she disappeared from the face of the earth. A great start to my trailblazing love life.

So, eventually I got a girlfriend who I shouldn’t name but her name was Christine. Did I find her attractive? No I don’t think so. But it was one of those things I had to do. I figured I needed to get a girlfriend to see what I was missing. Nothing, it turned out. She was pretty boring. See the thing was, all the guys were coming into class talking about having sex and shit, and I was like; “Yeah ha ha that’s really good, honestly I’m so impressed, no really keep talking about it because it doesn’t make me feel bad at all”. So I guessed it was time for me to take the plunge. So I started dating this creative type. She was from a strict family, kinda prudish and not much of a body. I wondered what it would be like to have sex with her. All of our friends were talking and piling on the pressure to get her nailed so they could move on to the next thing. But alas no, this girl was going to make me wait. So I waited because I am a gentleman. I waited and I waited some more. I hung on in there knowing that time was coming toward me. Seven freaking months pass! It’s about time we did this thing already?! Then there we were on the bedroom floor. Why not the bed you ask? Because her motherfucking parents were downstairs and the wood on the bed would often creak and crack and snap – fuck! Even if you just sat on the dam thing, so the bed was an absolute no go.

Don’t you think that hindsight is a terrible thing? What’s the point in regrets? We can all choose to think back and wonder what the fuck we could have done better in a situation. Here’s some hindsight for you. When I think about it now, I wish I had waited for a better girl, a better catch. I should have waited for a more generous offer to come along. Not me though; straight in with the first one that comes along as always. Ever the impatient prick that I am, I have to take what’s on offer straight away. I’m useless in a titty bar too because I always go off with the first pair I see no matter how bad she looks. There’s no patience where I am concerned. That has caused me some trouble over the years. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times having no patience has helped me. Had I waited for a more wholesome, prettier girl to come along then perhaps my virginity story would be a little happier. Or even a little more interesting than the train wreck it really was. Are you asleep? Shall we continue with the story? Strapped in? Good! Then let’s carry on.

So I think I know how to put a condom on? I think this is right. Don’t you pinch the tip and roll it backwards onto your dick? Hell that’s what I did anyway and it stayed on. There she was in front of me in all her glory. Let me be honest, there was no glory here. Only embarrassment and pain, I wish I could forget it. I enter her. Kinda like pushing a rolled up newspaper through a letterbox that is too stiff to open. Its strong, cold frame making things pretty unenjoyable which was as much my fault as hers. If you haven’t ever been a paperboy then you don’t understand this struggle but that was what it was like. Did she enjoy it? I’ve no idea. I honestly cannot remember. I think there was thrusting for a time and then I got bored, I didn’t even shoot. Does that still count? I’m pretty sure if you asked her now, she will probably tell you she’d erased it from her memory. Fuck was I glad it was over. I think she was too.

If I had some sort of wisdom to give to teenagers or anyone who is so obsessed with sex? Part of me says get it over and done with, and take the pressure off yourself. But these days a big part of my being is saying; wait. There’s no rush and it doesn’t matter. All those pricks at my school that judged me on my virginity are fat, bald and worthless to me now, and they have been for a long time. And look at me now – Fuck ’em! You know what I would say to all the young people out there now? I’d tell them to; stop sex dominating your lives.

Girls and guys are losing their virginity younger and younger and it’s damaging. The question is who to point your finger at? Who’s to blame? Irresponsible parents? Peer pressure? I have a theory; let me run it by you. When you are next in your local store buying the daily rag, take a look at the magazines around. Notice anything? It’s all sex and so-called glamour; women flaunting their new tits or talking about their rape ordeal. Its affairs, sex positions, scantily clad sluts and it’s wrong. Wonder why the world’s population is spiralling out of control? I know a solution; ban the images.

I haven’t even got to what’s on offer for the men. Take a look at the top shelf and tell me those magazines aren’t flaunting the female body. Tell me that it’s ok to have this sort of dirt on sale in the public eye. Tell me what’s right about that? I could create my own glamour magazine. I’d call it Pray-Tell, and make the girls dress as nuns with their legs open. I’d have them making confession topless still wearing their veils on their heads. It would make Church sexy and people would rush to buy that shit off the stands.

There used to be a time when I thought that sex was an act that meant something to me. Or I guess the person I was having sex with would. This kind of deep, meaningful feeling, like it was supposed to be more than just sexual – more than just physical. Like when two people connect spiritually on a higher level of consciousness, a stronger way of thinking, of being, even if it’s for just the shortest moment. It’s pure, celestial pleasure. They come together as one (shit pun I know). They say when a man climaxes, during those brief seconds he is unable to think of anything else. They also say it’s the closest he will ever get to heaven on Earth. I’m sceptical myself. I don’t know if I buy that shit. I get the pleasurable side of it. I mean why wouldn’t you? It’s the spiritual side I’m not so sure about. I guess you could argue that I haven’t experienced that certain someone to connect with yet on that level. Surely that’s gotta be rare to experience that? You can’t tell me that every couple that claims to be in love experience that many levels of connection when they make love. I think the odds are truly against you. And if you claim to be out there looking for that special connection with someone then I wouldn’t bother wasting your time. Let the physical lead the mental if you ask me. If it feels good physically don’t bother trying to establish the mental. The chances are that it won’t happen.

The purity of virginity is something special. It’s something that you don’t realise you have until it’s gone. It’s a different way of thinking. It’s a mindset that you don’t realise you have. There’s something about the innocence I miss. It all seemed to pass me by so quickly that I never had the chance to enjoy those virgin heydays. Losing your virginity changes everything; your personality changes and you are now an adult – an adult who looks at things through practised eyes; eyes that have seen their first sexual encounter. That’s not to be taken lightly. Now every decision is harder to make. It means more. If the decision is right then it feels better. If the decision is wrong then it feels so much worse. When you were a virgin the consequences didn’t matter so much. No one really gave a fuck because you were innocent and could afford to fuck up because you didn’t know better.

The things we did as virgins were pure. The things we didn’t know, the things we didn’t know how to do, the hurt was nonexistent. We didn’t know what it was to feel sexual anguish. God knows we feel it now. To be sexually rejected is something you wish on no one. It’s a poisoning of the soul. It’s a feeling that no one understands until they experience the unwanted laughter, or the unwanted comment that may have been said as a joke – a throwaway comment. Throw-it-the-fuck-away then! What they don’t realise is that the damage is already done. The rot and the hurt they’ve caused have already made a home of your mind and will forever squat there for as long as you live. As a virgin you experience nothing of the sort. Nothing can touch you. Nothing can bring you down to the gutter like sexual rejection. It’s a killer.

Want another story? Well you’re getting it anyway. I was on this bus just last week. I can’t remember if I was going into town or out of town, anyway it doesn’t matter. I was sitting near the back; this is a single floor bus so no upstairs. I’m staring out the window looking as the landscape goes past me and I can’t help but hear what I guess is a gang or group of kids talking. But they ain’t just talking; they’re talking loudly, like pretty much almost shouting. They’re shouting about what they were gonna do on the weekend and what kinda trouble they were gonna cause. I remember that the group consisted of a couple of guys and an actual couple; seemingly boyfriend and girlfriend from what I could work out. I can see other passengers on this busy bus trying not to catch the group’s eyes; I guess they were somewhat intimidated. I take a look over at them.

The journey gets caught in traffic and we are at standstill. The talk gets louder and I get more irritated. From what I could understand they were saying shit like: “come on you pussies, make it happen” and “the quicker you two fuck and get it over with the better it is for everyone!” What I’m thinking is; the guys are pressuring this couple, who were newly together, into having sex – to seal the deal I guess and pressuring them into losing their virginity. The guys were doing what guys do and bragging about their own conquests and trying to almost force their own experiences on the couple so they could get the deed done. The worst form of pressure, and they were out in public. You know what sickens me even more? I wasn’t the only one on that goddamn bus? There were children there, older people and families. Everyone could hear what was being said and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I got up and told these scrotes to stop what they were doing and shut-the-fuck-up. I couldn’t help myself. I just lost my rag. You can imagine what happened next. One stationary bus and the back seat of a police car later I’m being dropped home under a police caution. All I wanted to do was shut these guys up. I didn’t want them to talk back, or crack anything wise but they couldn’t help themselves could they? So yeah I might have gotten a little aggressive here and there – nothing too serious. I just didn’t think it was right that’s all and I’m the one being punished! I do have to thank a couple of people on the bus for telling my side of the story to the police. I guess that kinda helped. I don’t think anything will come of it. I should be ok – right?

I just think people of a vulnerable age (teenagers) deserve a break. They need to take the time to enjoy their lives. I’m not talking about heavy sheltering. I’m talking about steering their focus. It’s hard growing up with the pressures that are forced upon them. Forced to dress up, forced to try makeup, plastic surgery and so much more. Look at the women they see on the magazine shelves. They are airbrushed to perfection. They are goddesses of glamour, money, sex and fame. There are too many people who aspire to be them. Teenage boys are brainwashed into thinking this is what all women should look like, and when they come across girls that don’t fit that template, there’s a problem. They are rejected by men. It’s almost a survival of the fittest scenario. If you don’t make yourself as beautiful as the women on screen then you will not get laid – and for most teenagers, getting laid is the goal. Hey young people do yourself a favour; stay in comics, stay in books, stay in toys, stay in your imagination for as long as you can. Don’t rush to get laid. It did nothing for me. Sex is overrated. Virginity is undervalued.