Listening to: "Fin" by Pavement

So I finally hooked up with someone over the weekend. Initially, I liked the idea of little ol' me finally petting/groping someone who thought I was not some hideous creature from the abyss, but by Sunday night--after a well-needed talk from a dear friend--I was left feeling tired, disillusioned, and used. Not that I've never felt that way before, mind you, but this is the first time I've ever been manipulated so thoroughly for sexual release. Yeah. I sound like a pretentious cunt there, but whatever. I'm really glad I didn't actually have sex with him now.

Explain: he was needy and I was needy. He wants a sweet blond-haired girl who goes to bed by 11 every night, and I want his roommate. Is it to anyone's surprise, then, that we came together--two lonely, needy, drunk, horny college students--in someone's room for a night of sexual alleviation? Didn't think so. And I was far too sober to enjoy the experience as much as he did. I drank, but certainly not enough to enjoy myself. My mind--as always--was everywhere at once as he touched me. Why am I doing this? Is this making me feel good? Why can't he just continue to kiss my neck instead? Must it always end with the penis? Dammit, I still haven't revised my paper yet. I hope I don't have too awful a hangover tomorrow morning. And on and on.

Although we groped each other underneath the bright lights of a friend's room, I never once kissed him. Never. I couldn't. It would have added an element of humanity too much for the likes of me. I would have seen his face, and it would hit me that this was happening in real time, in real life and I would have stopped, too ashamed and unsure of myself to go on. To me, the only act more personal than a kiss is sex. I could try to explain why, but then I would need another 9000 paragraphs. Maybe some other time.

In the aftermath, whenever I see him, I automatically think back to that night, which is not what I want to picture when I talk to him, whom I still consider a friend. He told me that it wouldn't be awkward, and now I'm the one making things weird between us. I honestly don't know how I want him to (re)act: Strangely? Nonchalantly? Like it never happened? What? WHAT? I wish I knew, really. But all I know for sure is this: that I'm his friend and not his sex toy to be used over and over again whenever he's annoyed that his girl won't respond to his advances.

~~

That's when I realized:

I don't want my first time to be a drunken fumble with someone I met five minutes ago. I don't want my first time to be with a friend looking for a semi-handsome replacement. I don't want my first time to be some guy's last resort. And I definitely don't want my first time to be a mistake I'll regret for the rest of my life.

I thought I could pass off sex as something completely natural and inconsequential, but I can't anymore. If I'm going to give it up, I want it to mean something. I want it between Whoever and I under bright lights, fully exposed and aware of what we're doing. I want it sober. And I want it with someone I like quite a bit. Maybe even, l***.

So yeah, that's my musing for today. I was making up for this week.