Let's All Share...

Reading Awful Chief's previous condom post brought back some memories of my awkward teenage years so I thought I'd share some of them -- especially since the Chief has been riding my ass to post something.

I distinctly remember my first time buying condoms. I was with my really good friend Nate - a buddy of mine since forever. We were both were into a lot of the same stuff: we loved classic rock music, we both smoked tons of cigarettes, and we both played flute in the marching band (see how cool I was in high school?). Plus, Nate was in a rock band and I was a "groupie" per se - except without all the sex-stuff. Actually, Nate was more experienced at the sex-stuff than anyone I knew. He had lost his virginity like when he was 13 to some chick who was way older than us, who would always pick on me, and who was really fat. I'm only putting that in here because she was a super bitch and made me cry on more than 1 occassion. Seriously.

Anyway, I'm at this age, around 16, where I'm just dying to get rid of my v-card. One night after a football game (and remember, we were in band so we were at EVERY football game), Nate and I were hanging out and chatting about this and that. He was in-between special lady friends and so we started asking ourselves why the two of us never gave it a shot. I complained that I still was a virgin and we decided, on the spot, to remedy this affliction. We drove to the nearby 7-11, which was a local hangout spot (because teenagers are so imaginative), and walked in to buy some condoms. I remember I was shaking - I was more scared of buying these damn rubbers in front of everyone, than of doing the deed itself. I also thought the guy behind the counter wouldn't sell them to us because we were too young or would start yelling at us or something - but it went ok. After the transaction, we hopped back into Nate's giant Chevy Suburban and drove to this cemetary in the pitch-black. Really romantic, right? We climbed in the back of the 'burban and then kind of just looked at each other. We tried kissing - but it was too weird. Finally after some awkward fumbling, we gave up and I told him to take me home. I guess I realized that as much as I wanted to get rid of my "special flower" (puke - hate that term!), I didn't want to do it in the back of a Suburban, in a graveyard, with a guy who was more like my brother than anything else.

Afterwards, we went back to being friends and never really thought about doing that again. I'm actually really happy to report that Nate married a lovely girl last summer and me and my BF were at their wedding. The reception was in the back of a bar -- Nate and his band played for the guests so we all got to rock out like we used to.

As for myself, I ended up eventually losing "it" a few months later in a room with grafiti-covered walls to a guy named Chuck. Chuck was a white guy who liked to think of himself as a "gangster", who lived in Quakertown, and had the smallest dick I've ever encountered in my life. EVER.