WARNING: I’m going to be discussing something of an adult nature. I am whipping this out as it comes to mind and will be thoughts that are raw and uncensored – I may or may not use vulgarity. Oh, and it may have tons of grammatical and spelling errors too (Oh, the horror!?!?!). This post is intended for mature audiences. Also, names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
In my last S.A.R.D. post, I indicated that I also wanted to include some of the things that were more mainstream and probably what society might consider “normal”. In this post, I’m discussing the time I had a two night stand (I go big, or I go home…just kidding) with a young lady (okay, we were the same age) and it was actually only the second woman with whom I had sex. It began on a Friday night and ended on Sunday morning – okay, in all seriousness, we only did it two times, but once was Friday night and the other was Saturday night (As I begin to write this and think about it, it’s probably another thing that could be added to my drunk-a-log).
Well, at the time this occurred, I was in my freshman year of college and barely 18 years of age. I attended a school dedicated to engineering and what would be referred to now as STEM degrees. With that in mind, you can imagine that the school was inundated with “nerds.” Back then, almost 30 years ago, there were not that many women interested in STEM fields (or maybe there were and just the systemic conditions of the times discouraged women) and the school I attended had a male to female ratio of about 3 to 1. Of course, being the immature class of male I was trying to weed my way through life and trying to comprehend life, I really had no clue how to treat women (And I probably still don’t), I used to joke that our school had a 10 to 1 ration of girls you’d actually consider dating.
But, don’t let me fool you into thinking I was some sort of Dexter St. Jock (That’s a reference to an Eddie Murphy stand-up joke, in case you didn’t know). No, I lacked confidence, I didn’t actually think of myself as attractive (hmmm…I’m detecting a theme…), I lacked the sexual experience I thought all of my male friends had, and I had not dated very many women. So, I was the exact opposite of suave and debonair. But, this one weekend, while hanging out with my friends outside the dorms, I decided to cat-call a girl I thought was attractive.
My friends and I were walking back from the student center and noticed a few girls (it was easy to notice girls on this campus) walking back to one of the dorms that housed females. Somehow we were joking around with them and they were returning the hormone driven interaction between the two groups. I happened to say something risqué to the pretty blonde-haired girl I had my eyes on and she said something of the order, “Come over here and show me…” And I didn’t think anything of it at the time, because I couldn’t possibly imagine a girl wanting me. Although I really wanted to achieve some sort of masculine social achievement by conquering a woman, I stayed with my friends as we walked into our dorm and the girls walked into theirs. But the cat-calling and between the two groups continued from one dorm to the other through hallways windows. Eventually, the girl I liked (sadly, I can’t remember her name to this day), called me out and said, “I bet you wouldn’t come over here. I bet you’re too chicken”.
Enter, challenge to a male’s masculinity…
Feeling I had to somehow prove myself, I accepted the challenge and told her, “Unlock the dorm door and I’m on my way over” (The female dorms were locked to any on the outside). I wasn’t actually expecting her to open the door, but she met me at the dorm entrance and then led me to her room. She explained that her roommate was gone for the weekend and she and I had the room all weekend if we wanted it. Of course, I kept with my faux-suaveness and said, “Oh, I want it alright…” We exchanged names of course, and she offered me a screwdriver. We began talking about normal things, basically getting to know each other and I’m quite sure I felt the room get a lot warmer when she mentioned she was the daughter of a pastor in a small town.
By this time the small talk had moved into something more serious, and the orange juice was gone as we began drinking straight vodka. I don’t remember who initiated the kissing, but we were at it in a ferocious manner as we listened to the industrial/punk music of The Ministry playing in the background. It wasn’t long before she was removing my shirt, when I had my hands up her shirt and on her breasts kissing her. The sexual tension we might have had outside the dorm had eroded to the carnality of the situation. We were both inebriated, drunk with lust, and attacking each other’s decency in an all out assault.
The sex had continued throughout the night. The blasting of her speakers hiding any possible verbal exaltation as we continued to fuck like wild animals. It was incredible and eventually we were spent and I had fallen asleep holding her. Early in the morning she nudged me and whispered in my ear, “You have to leave, before the RA checks rooms…you’re not supposed to be here. But I want to do it again tonight…I’ll find you.” And with that, she showed me to the door and I went back to my own room where my room mate was asleep. I flopped into my bed and slept the morning away.
I woke later to a note that had been slipped under my door (The internet, email, cellphone were not much of a thought to people in 1990). It said something like, “Let’s have lunch together in the student center.” This must have been from my new sexual interest and it had a time written on the note too. I looked at my clock and I had 30 minutes to get over there. So I jumped up and showered, brushed my teeth and threw on some clothes as I began to leave the room with my roommate asking how the previous night went. I said something about meeting her for lunch and left.
She and I met for lunch and it was relatively light in pressure and tension. Although, I was still hoping to impress and there was a part of me that had hoped for this to turn into something. I really did not want to be the kind of guy that slept with random women and I thought I wanted a girlfriend at the time. I had not mentioned it, of course, because I was worried about freaking her out. In the conversation, she had asked me if I wanted to attend a party with her that night and we could get together right before to go. I agreed and we parted ways for the afternoon. As I got back to my room, I asked my roommate if he had heard about the party and he said a bunch of us that hung out together were planning on going. I called my new date for night and we made plans.
We went to the party, which I remember very little about. She and I had excused ourselves, and she led me by the had out as we walked back to our dorms. We each had only a couple of beers and she asked me to come up to her room again because she wanted me again. Obviously, at the time, I couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier. So, we went back to her room and the sex was less ferocious than the night before. This time it was soft, sensual, delicate. It was nice, almost loving in the way we treated each other this night compared to the last.
In the morning, she kissed me awake and told me I needed to leave again. She kissed me longingly before I left and said she had hoped to see me again. Little did I know, at that moment, it would be the last interaction she and I would ever have. By the following weekend, she had found herself a new boyfriend.