Tag Archives: sexual fulfillment

The first time I do it

The first time I do it… It will be right. It will be smooth and well crafted. It will not take a toll on me that hangs. Tugging down my shoulders keeping my chin from pushing my eyes up to see the layers of building tops touch the sky.

The first time I do it… finally to a man. Finally, to feel equal and stand up to him, to talk back, to call him out. To be assertive. The first time I do it… it will be authentic.

The first time will be quickly forgotten as it will be the first day that I step into that skin. The skin that I have been crafting in my mind. This skin will suit me, it has come from my mind, representing my heart, what I think and feel and especially what I know.  The first time will befinally; and then, yes, then forgotten.

It simply becomes the way that I am. Every day. Not that one significant time that I acted the way that I would love for every woman to act. Every day, for every woman to feel free to act out against any one, especially men. To act out without fear of ridicule because we have the right. Just as one knows they are innocent.. I know that I am powerful. I have the right to be, feel and act equal.

I have the greatest desire to, for the first time… not cow-toe in inferiority, not be afraid of disapproval, not feel dizzy with the conflict between mind and behavior. I won’t care if I hurt his feelings nor will I be concerned with the interpretations of others of me: abrasive, harsh, bitchy, extreme, angry, bitter, cold, childish, pushy, touchy. I will be proud of my authentic assertion, and not ony the first time.

I know that finally, and for the first time, I finally will have found so much of me that I have been searching to know.

The part that woke me up from slumber inside of a relationship where the part of me that makes people laugh had vanished. The part that stands up for the women I know and love. The part of me that loves and trusts her womanhood. That part of me that has come out fiercely and courageously in the company of women.

Only was I able to stand up and confront the pick pocketer and the crafty thief on the bus when it was a woman and her son. Only was I able to take charge that time we were lost out on a mountain and the headlights went out.. when I was with my best friend a beautiful and successful woman. I know I have a Sergeant inside. I know she is there and she is GOOD and she has come around in the presence of women, but she has been trained so well to take her subordinate place in the presence of men.

After the first time my behavior catches up with what I know, I will for the first time stand up courageously without regard to gender. After the first time, I will not ignore the man’s hand quickly groping me on the street (again). I will not be reluctant, worrying about embarrassing him or the woman he is with. That poor old creep who sees me as the parts of my body that he has a desire to abuse will not be ignored by me. Nor will I again be quiet and polite to the man following me, inappropriate with his words about MY body. I will not tell him that “Today, I just want to be alone,” or “Yes, it’s because I have a boyfriend, sorry”.

The first time I do it I will finally be saying goodbye to the path of least resistance.

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My First Girlfriend

The first time I kissed a girl my eyes were wide open. It had been a long time coming and I was surprised it had taken as long as it did. The bland disappointment that followed, however, I did not expect. It was not a major anti-climax or steep decline to nothingness but rather a sense of: “oh…ok”.

It all started with baggy pants and hip hop music. Shaggy hair, bitten nails a deep voice and a pair of converse sneakers were enough to convince all those around me that a boyfriend was out of the question. My choosing comfort over style was apparently an encrypted statement of homosexuality. I was a seventeen year old girl who smoked weed and listened to the Wu-Tang Clan and so was of no interest to the boys at my brother school, even more insulting was the fact that they were mediocre looking. Not one of them was strapping with broad shoulders and dreamy eyes, instead they were skinny with disproportionate rear ends and un-kept hair. So when one evening a new and incredibly attractive girl came into my room, closed her eyes and leaned in…I leaned in too…eyes wide open. I had been kissed by a girl once before, but this was the first time that I had ever kissed back. My eyes scanned the room as I waited for the time to stand still and for us to be thrown into a dizzying lust only to be jerked back to reality by the sound of the “lights out” bell. None of this happened.

One of my closest friends was lesbian and she was having the time of her life. She didn’t walk into spaces and constantly feel awkward and underdressed or any of the other symptoms of social retardation that burdened me. She took what she wanted and I admired that. I wanted that. So I kissed back. I was not sure if this girl was what I wanted but I decided to take her just in case. It was only after I watched her leave my room, her walking on air and me stead fast on the ground, that I came to realise what it meant to succumb to pressure. Here I was, awkwardly groping some confused young girl who had probably mistaken her own admiration for lust. I knew that if she turned around and came back into my room I would do it again, but I was not sure why. I was a senior and she was a junior but we were both just kids.

It was done.

She came into my room often and I let things happen. I let her straddle me and pine over me. I let her send me letters and tell her friends and all the while I felt nothing. Every time I heard her knock on my door I took on the duty of groping and kissing, teasing and whispering things I had heard on TV, it was awkward. She began to pick up on the chill I was giving off and sought comfort elsewhere…I felt no particular way about that either. It was when another young girl came to my room seeking some of what “old girl” had got that I realised that the charade had become exhausting.  I realised that I owed my first girlfriend an apology.

I used her. I wanted to be wanted. I needed to be needed. I longed for someone to look at me and struggle to catch their breath, for them to toss and turn at night, all but begging the sun to rise so that they could see me again. I wanted someone to feel sick at the thought of losing me and though she was the person who felt that way…she was not the person I wanted to feel that way.

I was in a parallel universe where people pretended to be gay to fit in and be wanted. I now recognize that as a symptom of a society that shames those who travel alone. Apparently we all need someone to confirm our existence. So rather than an apology, I think I owe my first girlfriend a thank you. There is no shame in being alone and I learnt that in her arms.

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Filed under Friendship, Growing Up, love, Sex, Sexual Experimentation, Sexuality, Uncategorized

The First Time I Fell in Love with a Girl

It was like a shooting star, bright but it faded as quickly as it came or rather as no one came.  This all happened so fast, I was still digesting the idea of us before it was all over.

To be honest I have always been attracted to both men and women, a bit of a bi-curious streak.  I think I just never wanted to admit my attractions to women to myself.  It was like everywhere I looked society, people, family and friends kept explaining how wrong it was in there eyes.

I worked as a as manager at a restaurant.  She started working as a waiter, fresh from the UK, with all her UK ways, living her life as fully as she can as a “full blown” lesbian.  I instantly found her attractive but as usual I dealt with like I always do, ignored it.  I think I came across as an uber bitch that didn’t care much.  Eventually she became a manager which meant we had to interact more.  I tried to keep it as professional as possible but it seemed impossible.  Before I knew it, she was joining us, my friends, at home for dinner, movies, coffee, drinks, anything we did.  The friendliness didn’t go far, for now.  She still had a girlfriend in the UK who called her at least twice a day.

Things started to get more intense, especially at work.  It was as if my attraction consumed my every thought.  It got to the point where I could barely be in her presence without dropping something or walking into something or uttering incoherent ramblings.  I felt like a complete idiot.  It felt like the more I became idiot like the more she pursued the matter.  It didn’t really matter that she had a girlfriend of like 2 years back in the UK.  She already travelled down under with a few doe eyed girls here in the land of opportunity, South Africa.  My mind kept screaming at me:  “step away from the girl, I repeat step away from the girl” while red alarm bells were blaring in the background.  But like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t resist.

And she caught on to it.  She started to intently pursue the matter, always saying and asking suggestive thing.  It got to a point where she walked/followed me home (the whole 5km-talk about being persuasive/pushy).  And of course the whole conversation back home was about what ifs.  I was very confused, nervous and scared.  She was leaving for the UK anyways so why take on something that would change my life.

The following day after the walk/talk/reason home, she somehow invited herself over for dinner.  It wasn’t really a problem except that there was enough energy between us to blow the roof of the house.  So it became later and later.  Eventually my roommate suggested that she sleeps over.   AARRGGHH!!!!!   All I wanted to do was to try to ignore the energy or somehow diffusing it but now it was literally closer to home than I can deal with.  I retreated to my room while she stayed behind on the sleeper couch.  My heart was racing, a million and one things ran no sprinted through my mind.  I laid in my bed unable to think straight, unable to sleep.  I was at a cross road, in the next room was someone that I was so attracted to, that it scared me.  I never felt like that about anyone and to top it I was engulfed by confusion.

So I chose one of the crossroads, I couldn’t take the tension/energy anymore so I smsed her to come to my room.  The moment of truth.  We just sat on the bed for a few minutes, which felt like a mini eternity, and then started kissing.  One thing led to another and before I knew it I lost my virginity for the second time, this time to a beautiful girl.  There were no real firework moments and I think the best was afterwards, just lying there cuddling and just being in the moment together-CHEESY I know.  We stayed awake most of the night talking, just being and a bit of exploring.

The next few days we just smsed each other.  I was very nervous to tell my roommate who also happens to be my best friend.  I kept thinking what if our friendship changes, what if she felt that she couldn’t even be friends with me anymore.   I have a special talent to always imagine the worst extremes. To my surprise my friend was perfectly fine with it and even suggested to invite her out.

The sleepovers kept going  on for about a month, she was going back to the UK.  No one at work knew and it just added fuel to the excitement of the experience.  There would be glances, words, looks and subtle touches.  However I kept telling her it was just for fun, an experience.  I was actually trying to convince myself it was just for fun.  People have flings, fuck buddies, one night stands all the time without getting attached, why would this be any different.  But to be honest, each sleepover wasn’t just about the sex, it was also the emotional and intellectual connection we shared, getting to know each other better.  To make matters worse, the dreadful goodbye was upon us, we had one week left.  And I wasn’t falling in love, I was crushing in love.

We, the work crew, held a “going away drinks” out for her.  It felt weird, 4 days left then she will be back in the UK, back with her girlfriend.  After the night out she came over to my house for a sleepover again.  During the day she told me she had to tell me something, I instantly felt uncomfortable about it, suspecting that it must be more than I was willing to deal with.   So when we got home after drinks, I asked her.  She confessed that she slept with one of the other managers, a guy, and it happened at work the previous weekend.  Suddenly the whole fairytale just crushed into a million pieces, the fairytale unrecognizable.  I was upset, I couldn’t believe it.  Her excuse, her dad didn’t want her to be gay so she gave it one final shot with a guy, or so she said.  She told me she loved me and it made me furious.  How can you break someone’s heart like that and then tell them you love them.   It is like deliberately punching someone in the stomach and then saying sorry and expecting that person to accept your apology.  Needless to say the next day at work was horrible, I was shattered.  Couldn’t stomach being at work, with her there.

She left that Monday.  We did talk before she left.  I wanted  to fix the unfixable.  I kept saying it wasn’t her fault that I felt so depressed, that it was my own because I should have never allowed myself to fall in love.   All the alarms and smoke signals were there.  I blame it on the movies, on fairytales.  Making us believe that if you love someone nothing can stand in the way of that.  I even got a crazy idea to go to the airport, running in slow motion saying  NOOOO DOOONT GET ON THAAAAAT PLANE.  Crazy I know.  But thank goodness sanity prevailed in the battle of craziness.

The months after she left, was very bad.  I felt desolate, disconnected and in disbelief about the whole experience.  I was depressed and couldn’t believe that someone who knew how you felt could make you feel so miserable.   One of my friends once told me, don’t screw the screw.  If only I listened.  I am fine now, survived the FIRST TIME I FELL IN LOVE WITH A GIRL!

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