I lost my virginity to a graduate student from Los Angeles. His name was Ken and he was What drew me to him was the peculiar way his mouth was perpetually fixed into a sideways, half-moon shape that was like a smirk but without any trace of smugness. But the two most striking parts of Ken by far were the dinner plate roundness of his face and his small, expressionless teddy bear eyes.
Of the things that mattered to him, there was his best friend , a college dropout who sold computer parts in Toronto, and sex. It hurt the first time. Time and the intimate closeness of it all helped rid me of the pain. I came to see what we were doing as more of an act of sensuousness and emotion than of sensuality.
Though it was certainly sexual -- it is sex after all -- its other less lust-driven components, capable of inducing every possible feeling, were what made it special. Gradually, it became more than just banging, evolving into a means of connecting with another human being. Even though we both knew we would grow apart from each other, it was still comforting to have someone to hold in the middle of the night.
The inevitable end of our time together only made us savor each other's presence more. My second and last sexual partner must have thought differently of me. The end of the relationship was as spontaneous and random as its beginning.
Just like on the first night, I was sprawled out on a futon in his one-bedroom apartment with him panting directly on top of me. He paused mid-coitus as the words escaped my lips.
