Tag Archives: sex

Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll

We slept together—literally.

I spent the night in his oversized T-shirt in his undersized bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why it was spinning, his soft laughter in my ears when I shared with him my wonder. 

He acted like a complete gentleman that night, despite the fact that I wanted him to be anything but that at the time.

At 21 and newly single, I had fallen into a pattern of discovery.

I was finally free to discover just who I was and what I wanted to do, with the answer shifting as quickly as the company I kept. New friends, new experiences—I was finally free to discover that I didn’t need to know, that I could choose my own adventure.

Most nights were spent at the bar—working first, playing second—short shorts and long nights. I countered my good girl image with a raw sexuality and harmless flirting that left them confused and intrigued, not unlike myself at that point. I was getting culture—bar culture—and discovering more every night.

He was a local celebrity of sorts, a regular at the bar and a bit older than me. Our love of sports and sarcasm made us fast friends. I was invited to game-day parties and cookouts, making new friends and no plans, discovering the fun in spontaneity and Stoli.

That day was hot and full of cool drinks, more than I could count. There was hummus and things on the campfire, pitchers of drinks that fueled guitars and singing and dance.

To this day I still associate the last song I remember hearing them play as I sat around the campfire, a bottomless glass in my hand and a fuzzy recollection of time—The Rolling Stones, no less. 

The ride home is a blur, as is much of that night, but I know where I ended up last. In his oversized T-shirt in his undersized bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why it was spinning, his soft laughter in my ears when I shared with him my wonder.

He acted like a complete gentleman that night, despite the fact that I wanted him to be anything but that at the time.

Yes, the first time I slept with a man after sleeping with someone so wrong for so long, I learned a little about sex, drugs and rock and roll.


(Even if you don’t know it at the time.)

This trip down memory lane was in response to the Red Dress Club RemebeRED prompt:

The first time I _____ after ________.

How would you fill in the blank?

That’s where you came from

This is a post written in response to the prompt from the Studio30 Plus gang—"serendipity”.  It’s posted here and there.

Serendipity – Luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for.

It all started with a book.

where did i come from

Is it actually how I learned where babies come from?

Of course not, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t teach me a thing or two about the mechanics. It also doesn’t mean that despite the fact that they were cartoon characters, I still wasn’t skeptical or mildly horrified.

Up until that point I had a general idea about how things worked but the details were fuzzy, and quite frankly, I liked it that way. When my friend brought the book out, we flipped through it (many times) with a mix of curiosity and doubt. There was a lot of skeptical laughter, mostly at the thought of people actually doing that stuff on purpose.

where did i come from 1

The image that’s burned in my brain is that of the bathtub.

Well, not really the bathtub, but the two naked cartoon adults standing there in all their bare-assed glory. Their smiles and the decorative throw rug in that miniscule bathroom did nothing to distract from the tufts of hair strategically highlighted in lower extremities or the sagging body parts so openly displayed.    

These exhibitionists were smiling because they knew they were about to change the lives of children everywhere. With a turning of the page, there was no going back. There was no “unknowing” the things they were about to so happily illustrate through careful word choice and stark illustrations.

where did i come from

This book pulled no punches, and in a clear and concise way it explained exactly what happened when two people “loved each other and wanted to express their love.” While it gave you the basics, it left quite a bit out.

Here’s the true story.

First of all, take a look at the bathtub in that picture.

Although we would all be grateful if he actually attempted to sit down in the tub, there would be no room for him. And if by some miracle he squeezes in, there will be no water left. She will be cold, and additionally, she will be pissed because the floor would be flooded.

He will counter with the fact that less water meant more room for lovin’ and continue his advances, at which time she will remind him that if there was less of him to “love” and he actually ate the healthy lunches she sent to work with him each day, they might not have this problem.

Knowing he’s in a rather vulnerable position, he will gingerly counter with the fact that it’s actually her taking up the majority of the room in the tub— but that he still wants to fluff those fleshy pillows, if she’s in the mood.

She will not be in the mood.

In fact, she will be drying herself off with a towel, muttering about how her mother was probably right and double-checking to make sure she has adequate AA batteries in the nightstand.

He will be left holding the bag, so to speak, but all hope will not be lost. A man on a mission, he will set off to find a mop to rectify the situation. Realizing he doesn’t know where they keep the mop—and wisely keeping this information to himself—he will resort to towels.

And hour later, with his attempts to clean the floor complete, he would then proceed to enter the living room where his wife will be on the computer watching back episodes of “The Soup” and feeding her feelings with Fritos.

She will glance up and notice her husband, or rather, she will glance up and notice her husband has created a human towel rack with a certain member of his anatomy.

The ridiculousness of the situation will cause her to unexpectedly laugh.

He will laugh.

The resentment and towel will fall.