Losing it

Virginity is the state of a person who has never engaged in sexual intercourse. I remained in this state until the age of seventeen, and while my friends were “losing it” in drunken states to random fellas at parties, this was the one thing that I was going to do right.

(I write this post knowing that all the teachers at my kids schools read this blog, as does my general practitioner but I figure you know everything about me, so let’s close this off.)

The year was 1990 when I first fell in love. His name was Peter but for the sake of his privacy, we shall now refer to him as Scott. He was a tall, strapping blonde fella with a sense of humour and a devil-may-care attitude. We fell hard, but I came with a (strangely now absent) set of morals, akin to those of the good private school girl that I clearly never was in any other aspect of my life. My rules were as follows.

  • We could not consummate the relationship until we had been going out for six months.
  • Fornication would take place in a controlled environment without the benefits of any intoxicating substances.
  • Discussions were to be held about contraception. Contraception would need to be researched, analysed and findings presented in a factual, non-emotional manner.
  • It would not be discussed with any friends. (This totally NEVER was going to happen)

So as the six month mark came about, a plan was put into place. Ironically, looking back, I have never put such thought into anything I have done since. That includes two unplanned pregnancies resulting in my offspring. But I digress. It was the evening of the eleventh of December, on a balmy evening in the country town of Wellington NSW. We were staying with a whole heap of friends and the grown ups in charge were fond of a beverage or twenty-seven, so we knew that clearly we were unsupervised. And in the back of a Toyota ute, parked under a huge gum tree, I became the woman who you see in front of you now. (but with more grey hair, wrinkles and a cynical demeanour.)

I was a huge fan of Bruce Springsteen at the time, and still are might I add, and while he sang in his beautiful tones about being on fire, I CAUGHT ON FIRE!

In a quick survey of my mates, it was determined that 100% of us found that first encounter as awkward, dare I say it, as fuck. Thankfully, it was also quite quick. As soon as the deed was done I was like “Holy shit, I am pregnant and I have aids….” which of course was not true at all. But that was the opening of the floodgate as we fornicated like bunnies for the next eighteen months until distance tore the relationship apart as I started university in a country town away from Scott.

I texted him last night to let him know that I was going to tell this yarn, and was that ok with him. He said that he must be good material for me, and I told him that I could put him on retainer if I ever become a wildly successful blogger. (When is that going to happen universe. I have put that out there for years now! PAY UP DAMMIT)

So now that I have absolutely NO secrets left to tell you, join me tomorrow for my tips and tricks in how I deal with laundering socks. It is a method that I am considering patenting.

So, lets open this up for discussion

How did you lose it?