I first seriously kissed a girl when I was 16 years old. I can remember ever single detail about that first kiss. I remember exactly where I was. I remember exactly how she looked. I remember who she is, and we are still friends (at least on that social networking site that shall not be named because they are not writing me a check).
I remember my first drink. I was a freshman in high school. We start drinking young in Texas, what can I say? I also remember my first legal drink. It was shortly after midnight and the bar I was working at was closed but the manager who is someone I still consider a good friend of mine opened the bar up for just us and we had a beer together.
I first had sex when I was....get ready for it.....24. I remember where I was. I remember how it felt. I remember her name. I remember what she looked like. I just cannot remember the color of her eyes. Oh yeah, and I married her.
My first divorce (and also hopefully my last) involved the same woman who I gave my virginity to.
I had another first this weekend, or after you read this it may be considered a series of firsts. That being said, let me get into the story.
I had a bunch of friends in town and we started off with a happy hour at 5:30 on Friday. Happy hour progressed to hitting up one of the bars around the corner from my house. As you can imagine, I had a headache that I believe was spawned out of the loins of Satan come Saturday morning.
I was leaving the bar around 12:30 or so and my brother who was also there motioned over for me to come talk to him, and meet the three women he was talking to. The one he wanted to really introduce me too, he tried to hog for himself, so I started talking to a friend of hers - law school student, brunette, skinny, fairly attractive, probably 25, but interesting.
My friend who was tending bar, kept the beers coming, as well as shots, and what went from a decent buzz started to get cloudy, but I saved myself by slowing down considerably and drinking a ton of water to rehydrate. I do remember at one point engaging in a fairly tame and innocent kiss with the girl I was talking to.
The girls left, and I left as well, to find the girls outside, walking back to the bar. The one I kissed, talked to me for five minutes, and I walked her home. She suggested we go to my place, but I insisted on walking her to her place.
First Number One: picking up a girl in a bar (or she picked me up, but either way, it's a first).
We walked home, she invited me inside, we started kissing, she suggested I spend the night, and suggested we go upstairs because she wanted to have sex since her housemates were gone and she wanted to let loose and not be a good girl.
So, I did what any self-respecting gentleman like myself would have done who has a woman throwing herself at him, aroused to the point her panties were wet from the view from up her skirt.
I said no.
I told her I wasn't the type of guy who was going to take advantage of a situation, and a woman, because she was drunk, and truth be told, I am not. She said she understood, and respected that I was respectful, even though she was a bit disappointed.
Now, I am no saint. I have had somewhat meaningless and more than meaningless but not quite meaningful sex with willing women, but they have been sober the first time we fooled around (and yes I have had meaningful, passionate, and intense sex with different women, don't get the wrong impression). But there is something about fucking a drunk woman and walking out the door never to see her again after getting my rocks off that I guess I cannot bring myself to do.
First Number Two: the walk of shame (although was it really? I mean, technically it was still dark out, and I didn't have sex, so it's up for debate)
Thankfully there was a 7-11 near her place that was open so I could grab some water, a snack, and nicotine (still trying to quite, I swear) for the walk home.