SAM SHARPE It was a Saturday night. We sat in the backseat of her mom’s Toyota Corolla, not making out but thinking about it. The school’s jungle gym was to our right. Moonlight illuminated the basketball court to our left. We talked about our Caribana plans. We talked about our families. We talked about Allen Iverson’s future prospects. We joked about the blunt, borderline rude manner in which I had first asked her out. Then I turned down the music. The ensuing silence was comfortable and comforting....


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A Guest Post by DAZEDIVA As cliché as it might be – I reckon all of us recall our very first sexual encounter – who, where, and when.  Ladies, do you remember your girlfriends telling you that it might hurt, you might bleed, and them asking you repeatedly if “you’re sure you want to do this?” Guys, did you practice putting on a condom just so that you came across as a pro only to find yourself still fumbling around for a bit? I remember my mother telling me that she didn’t ever want to know...


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