“Please, Ana, let me make love to you.” – Christian Grey
In most movies and stories, the “first time” is supposed to be a special moment between two people who are much in love and want to express their love on a deeper, physical & emotional level. Bah.
By the time I finally was intimate with a person, we’d only been dating for a couple of months at most and we hadn’t said “I love you” to each other.
“I really like him,” I’d tell my friends.
“Yeah, I like him a lot,” I’d tell my family.
My feelings were expressed more through my excessive smiling and giddy jubilation. I liked the idea of being coveted. He wanted to hold my hand in public and have long conversations on the phone at night and hear my voice before he went to sleep. He was what I longed for: a guy who could be my boyfriend.
We fooled around a lot. On his couch. On my sofa. On his bed. In my den. But I didn’t want to have sex yet. Yeah, I thought about it, but who doesn’t think about sex, really? It was nerve-wrecking enough to get half-naked in front of him, you know, but sex? Jeez.. After a while though, I knew that it wouldn’t be long before he’d want the nitty gritty.
We would lay in his bed sometimes with just my underwear on and just enjoy our skin touching. And of course, make-out. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he’d say, panting heavily, looking down at me with his eyes bright and filled with desire.
“If you’re not ready, just let me know.”
“I want you so much, but I’ll wait if you want me to.”
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll wait if you’re not ready.”
After all a while I couldn’t stand it. At times he reminded me that I was a virgin more than anything else. I figured if I told him I was ready, he’d shut up. And it worked like a charm. When we tried a couple times, however, his anxiousness at being “perfect” for my first time got the better of him mentally.
“We’re going to rectify the situation right now.”
“What do you mean? What situation?”
“Your situation. Ana, I’m going to make love to you, now.”
– Christian Grey & Anastasia Steele
A couple days after we decided to date exclusively, we tried to go at it again. I was pretty nervous. A great deal of the females I knew said it would hurt.
“Holy shit it hurts!” that’s what the tiny one in high school told me of her first time. “It was like…the inverse of having a baby.”
“It’s not that bad…it’s just uncomfortable,” said one friend.
“I didn’t bleed a lot,” mumbled another.
During those days I was doing light weight training and tons of stretching, so I hoped that it wouldn’t hurt as much. I was already up on the basic information. My sister was a big on sexual education, prompting me to learn as much as I could in my earlier years.
“Sex…isn’t something to take very lightly,” she’d say to me. “It’s good to be informed.”
Finally the moment came.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Are you sure?”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to…”
“Holy hell, let’s just do it already!”
His nerves started to get the best of him again and so we had to work to get his mind back in the game. It was awkward as shit. I had to keep repeating ‘relax’ in my head. I wasn’t completely ready to receive him and when I did, he felt like an arm trying to fit into a too-tight sleeve. After communing with myself, he was able to make some headway. I didn’t hear anything pop or rip or tear.
“Good Girl,” he said to me, with a big ass grin on his face. Christian Grey said the same thing. What the hell is it with guys saying that? Good Girl. Like I’m a fucking puppy that did a trick or a little kid who made a macaroni necklace. I mean really…
Time passed and then it was over.
He looked like he had just walked out of the ER after successfully completing radical brain surgery. I hugged him and applauded. He smiled. I think I enjoyed some of it. I honestly can’t remember. All I remember is running to the bathroom after it was done to pee and check for blood. I spotted a little. I moved around and found that I was slightly sore. Not bad I thought.
Much like Ana, I gave myself to a man I hadn’t loved yet. And while she was pretty willing to give herself to this super hot gajillionaire, I kind of did it to get him off the subject. Sometimes it really sucks being a virgin.
Of course, I told my sister and friends that I finally did it:
“OH EM GEE! How was it?”
“You’ve officially swiped your V-Card!”
“Are you okay? Do you feel any pain?”
“Well, baby girl, you’re a woman now.”
“Welcome to the non-virgin club!”
One relative actually cried. It was like I had hit her in the chest with a sledge-hammer and knocked all the wind out of her lungs. I wasn’t expecting it from her. It took me by surprise, that I actually started tearing up.
“I’m okay. I’m just so…just so…” and she just kept crying. I didn’t realize it then, but I think she always thought I’d stay a baby girl forever.
I didn’t tell my parents. They wouldn’t learn about it until we got in a fight and, well, that’s another story.
“Yo L, you had him so worried last night. I don’t think I ever saw him go that out of his mind,” his friend said to me when I entered the apartment. Woah.
He was washing dishes and for once didn’t greet me with tongue and arms.
“How are you?
“Why are you mad at me?”
“Because, I didn’t know where you were…you don’t know how worried I was. I tried calling you and you didn’t answer. Do you know how much that scared me?”
“Well, my cell phone was dead, you know how shitty it is.”
“But you were supposed to come by.”
“Well, I told you the girls were going out. I decided to go with them. I had a change of plans… I’m sorry.”
He just stayed silent. I didn’t know what to do, so I started to cry. I felt bad for making him worry. But I really felt bad because he was upset with me and I would’ve been pissed if he was trying to blow me off now that I gave up the goods.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because, I didn’t mean to upset you, you know? I mean I know how I feel about you…”
“And how’s that?”
“Well…I love you.”
He was visibly moved. He started gritting his teeth and I didn’t know what the fuck to make of that. I think he actually growled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“I didn’t want you to be the first one to say it.”
He then told me that he loved me and wanted to tell me, but couldn’t because it’s such a big deal for him and didn’t want to just say it, to say it. Suffice it to say, I had make-up sex for the first time.
That was when I realized he really cared. And when I also thought he was kind of a nut-job for being mad that I changed my mind. Am I not allowed to change my mind? Okay, I didn’t call. But is that a reason to be mad? I mean, I didn’t understand why he’d be so worried to “go out his mind.” If he didn’t get my cell, he could’ve called the house. Not to mention, I told him that I might’ve gone out that night. Who was he, my parents? This would later be one of our ‘work-in-progress’ problems: me feeling that he shouldn’t expect my vagina to waltz to him when he was available and him feeling that I was being inconsiderate.
It wasn’t until several months later in our comfort together, that he told me he was glad we did ‘it’ when we did. He said didn’t know if he could’ve held out longer. We laughed about it, but deep down I felt slightly disappointed. Were all men like this? Just waiting to jump into your pants at the slightest provocation? Always hovering over you saying “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” knowing fully well they want to?
I think of how eager Ana was to have sex, but then again who wouldn’t want to lose their virginity to a smart, handsome, successful, wealthy, young, lady magnet who made their body melt at the sound of his voice?
Some days though, I really do wish that I had waited. Maybe I would’ve found a guy and we’d have that (what I now deem) Grey-Magnetism where we are so uncontrollably, unconditionally attracted to each other that when the time was right, it would’ve been like the movies and like the novels. It would’ve been…pure magic.