March 21, 2011

SAM SHARPE

We’ve been talking a lot of firsts around here. First time this, first time that. It’s all fine and dandy except it’s all been pretty straightforward for the most part. We’ve heard about lost virginity, first kisses, blah, blah blah. All the things you expect to hear. Well, I’m going to change it up. I’m going to talk about a few firsts that are underrated and under-discussed, a few dating/sex/relationship firsts that really shaped the man I am today.

Prometheus Unbound: Puberty was painful. Not so much in the awkward, ugly duckling way but in the my hormones are so out of control I feel as if TNT is coursing through my cock way. I was a loaded weapon. Then there was Shelly*. Shelly was and still is a good friend. The New Kids On The Block were the shit when we first met. Michael Jordan hadn’t won the first of his six rings yet and Shelly was there to help me through some tough times. But what I remember most is that she was the first person, other than me, to touch my penis. And touch it she did. First it was all furtive and awkward as we hid in my neighbours backyard during games of hide and seek. A rub-rub here, a rub-rub there, the heat and friction of her hand against my junk, or more accurately against the fabric of my pants and underwear that held my junk, was manna from heaven. Until of course Shelly built up the courage to put her hand into my pants. The memory of her slightly cool fingers grabbing for and eventually handling my junk is a charter member of my spank bank, right beside Naomi Campbell in all her GQ’ed splendor.

Gather round: I grew up in the pre YouTube, YouPorn and PornoTube era. The Internet was unheard of; there was no texting or sexting. You know what this means? It means the fat nerdy kid on the block with the pervy dad or uncle or mom who left nudie magazines or pornos lying around would temporarily become the most popular kid on the block. Y’know, until he produced the goods and we’d had our fill. Anyway, so I remember well that first visit to Fat Doug’s house when a whole bunch of us crowded into the basement to watch one of his uncle Johnny’s porno videos. I must have been about nine or ten years old. I can’t really remember what I saw on the screen (maybe if I could remember it would unlock all the secrets to my sexual predilections and hang-ups. This might be my sexual Cadbury secret or my sexual Memento or something) but I do remember that the minute the naked woman started doing stuff to the naked man the whole room fell silent. All the pointing and laughing stopped. I also remember that I was petrified while lying on the ground in front of the television. My Johnson was rock hard in my pants and there was no way I could get up without everyone seeing the bulge in my pants and realizing that wasn’t G.I. Joe in my pocket.

Power Outage: It was Caribana weekend. I was 22 or 23. My cousin Ricky was in town and he joined my crew and I as we partied the f*ck out of ourselves. We went non-stop from Wednesday to Monday. Anyway, to make a long story short, on the Wednesday I ran into Kelly*, a girl who I knew a little from high school and hooked up with her on the Friday. Or should I say tried to hookup. There was lots of kissing and caressing. But the minute the clothes came off and I tried to seal the deal there wasn’t any lead in the pencil. Now Kelly gave me the whole “don’t worry about it” spiel but that just made me feel worse. I mean that shit never happened to me. And it happened then, right when I was on the verge of sealing the deal with Kelly, a girl shaped like all types of goodness? I didn’t even bother with the whole “it’s never happened to me before” deal even though it was true. I mean what difference would it make to her? She’d probably just roll her eyes and put me in the lame box.

Anyway, the next day my boys just had to know the story.

“Did you hit it guy?”

“I know you must have murrrrrrrrdered that thing”

I’m not one to lie or exaggerate my prowess so I just told them the truth. To their credit my friends didn’t laugh. At least not to my face. Instead they offered all manner of excuses and solutions. I must have been too tired from all the hard partying and drinking I’d been doing they said. After all I was known for being able to consume copious amounts of alcohol.

Two nights later I ran into Kelly at another party. Miraculously, at the end of the night she invited me back to her place. Before I left with her, my cousin Ricky pulled me aside. He was worried. He’d seen how the situation was fucking with my head. He’d seen how my partying and drinking went from impressive to epic to we might have to call the doctor over the course of the weekend in pathetic attempts to wash away my shame. Ricky also figured that if fatigue was indeed a factor in my power failure nothing that had happened in the ensuing days was conducive to me bouncing back. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice cracking when he said:

“Guy, I’m really not sure you should do this man”

He was genuinely worried for me, worried what another power failure would do to my ego. It was touching. It needed it’s own Hallmark card. If we men routinely hugged and said things like “don’t worry man, no matter what happens I’ll still be there for you” this would have been one of those moments.

But I had a point to prove to Kelly. And to myself. So I went home with Kelly that night. I was tired. I was drunk. I was almost broken. I wasn’t really that horny but I was determined. And more importantly I was hard. And let me tell you, no erection, before or since, has meant more in my life.

The Moral: What did I learn from these firsts? Hell if I know. But I do know that I’m a better man for having had these experiences. And isn’t that the beauty of the first time.

*As in most of the narratives I discuss here, names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. Like Shelly. We’re still friends, we still see each other relatively regularly and I don’t think she’d want her current beau to know how hands on our relationship once was.

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