Fail

About five years ago, I met this guy on a plane.  He was cute, we flirted, and before you knew it we were Facebook friends.  Haven’t spoken much since then until last week when he decided it was time to catch up via Facebook chat.  After hellos, we dove into the compulsory question session reviewing specific facts to prove we at least vaguely remember each other.

“Did I remember you telling me you were a virgin?  Yeah, I thought I remember talking about losing your virginity and joining the mile high club at the same time.”

I’m going to blame this drastic over share on the high dosage of Xanax I pop before flights but my lack of boundaries is clear.  I have zero recollection of this conversation and shock myself by the ease with which I share this information with people, strangers.

My mouth often fails me. 

The first (and only) time I gave head was the last day of my junior year of college.  Dane Cook tells of the first time he got head but I have a feeling my tale does not end quite so satisfactorily.  Every first day of class of every semester of college was spent finding the guy worth going to class for.  And with great success, I found a good one in an English class.  Turns out he was as interesting to talk to as he was delicious to look at.  While I spent the semester staring at him, he spent it hooking up with another girl from our class.  Typical.

The second to last night before summer break began and he disappeared forever (he had just graduated), he called wanting to hang out.  Surprised and obviously excited, I later learned that excellent timing was on my side.  Standing on the porch outside the house party we had just attended, he informed me that he had recently dumped the girl from class via text.  Proving he made the right decision, she responded by posting the “Text Message Breakup” music video to his Facebook wall.  Well done. 

By comparison, I was already looking pretty good.  With nothing to lose and a serious desire to quench the thirst I had been suppressing all semester, I interrupted his story.

“I just want to make out.”

After an adorably embarrassed smile from him, we did.  Even more surprising was the booty call I received the next night.  Most girls would be offended; I was flattered.  Success.

When I got to his house that night, I found him on his roommate’s floor stuck between the desk and the bed.  Off to a great start, he eventually joined me outside where we sat on the porch swing talking with another couple for hours.  Finally he said, “Okay, I’m going to bed.  Who wants to race me upstairs?”  I looked around.  “That was my way of inviting you up to my room.”  In his bed and for only the second time fully naked with someone, the sex invitation/conversation/virginity reveal occurred.  I texted my roommate asking her opinion and the three of us eventually decided no on the sex.  He was literally leaving in a few hours for New York.  So we ran backwards through the bases. 

“Have you ever given head?  Really?  Okay, we are going to have a lesson.”  Thrilled at this learning opportunity, I was suddenly face to face with his “situation.”  I’m clearly no expert but I can tell the difference between a hot dog and a bratwurst and I was scared.

“What if it doesn’t fit?”

“It will.”

“No but really.  It’s not going to fit.  What if I choke?”

“You won’t.  I promise.”

After finally convincing me that it would fit, and it did, I learned that lesson the best I could…for about two minutes.

“I’m done.  My jaw hurts.”

And once again, my mouth failed me.