Losing My Virginity: A Story of Vodka and Despair

The Morning After

As I’m sure is true for most of the general population, high school is a time which I have blocked out of my memory. I was chubby, awkward, and filled with an entirely unwarranted amount of teenage angst. For these reasons combined with my fermented belief that love and relationships were going to look the way they appeared in movies, I lived a life of solitude with no semblance of a sexual encounter until the age of 19. While I can promise the night I lost my virginity was not at all the magical night of passion and romance which I had convinced myself I was holding out for, my recollection of the main event remains a little foggy. This is in large part due to the substantial amount of alcohol I had consumed, but I digress. I had chosen, or rather fate had chosen, for me to lose my virginity on the most romantic night of the year: Halloween. Because nothing says true love like a slutty cop costume with matching fishnets that I had purchased last minute at a discount Halloween store off Exit 9. I know it was awkward, I know it didn’t last very long, and that’s about it. However, the morning after I remember vividly.

Before I begin this disastrous tale, I will provide a brief synopsis of my relationship with this person. His name was Diego, and I originally met him months earlier when I began working at my first restaurant job. He was the manager there, and for some odd reason, I found myself seduced by this very minute position of power. We had engaged in a long-standing flirtation which lasted throughout the summer, which almost always ended in us making out in the car after our shift. He was sweet, very patient, and never attempted to pressure me into anything before I was ready. For these reasons, and the fact that I found myself inexplicably attracted to his 100 pound frame, I decided that he was the one I was going to lose my virginity to. On Halloween night, I decided that it was time and we had both waited long enough. As a plot twist, I will add that six years later we’re still dating despite the series of unfortunate events which transpired this fateful morning.

I was not particularly sure how much time had passed since I had fallen asleep but due to the fact that it was already light out, I could tell I had stayed longer then intended. My head was pounding, and the post vodka soda dehydration was definitely taking its toll. I was hoping that this was going to be a prime example of the early bird catching the worm or in my case the early bird sneaking to their car with little to no human interaction but once again I was sorely mistaken. Just moments later the door which connected his bedroom to the bathroom swung open and I swiftly shut my eyes.

“Maybe if I close them tight enough, I’ll just disappear,” I thought. It didn’t work.

I tried to maneuver myself underneath the blankets but seeing as he was using them to form a makeshift cocoon for himself this attempt failed miserably. I resorted to crossing both my arms over my chest to cover my exposed breasts in a vampire-esque position. The footsteps approached and suddenly came to a still as I felt someone staring down at me with what I could only assume was entirely warranted judgement, followed by laughter. It was his older brother Alex, who continued chuckling to himself as he exited the room. Apparently he wasn’t that impressed with what he saw, which was yet another blow to my already fragile self-esteem.

I physically forced my body to fall asleep in order to numb the pain of my given situation only to wake up what felt like minutes later. What I woke up to unfortunately was the sound of his mother, otherwise known as my biggest fan, cooking in the kitchen. She had most likely every single light in the entire house on and was singing to herself with gusto. I leaned over sleeping beauty to check my phone; it was 6:30 a.m. I lay there for a long time, questioning why anyone would feel the need to be sautéing up a storm at the crack of dawn. Also, where were her manners? There are two people sleeping mere feet away who don’t relish in starting their morning with your rendition of “Como la Flor” by Selena. Then I remembered I was in her house and should probably keep my opinion on her morning routine to myself.

After moments which felt like an eternity had passed, I decided I had two options. One: hurl myself out of his bedroom window and hope that my skull broke my fall. Two: suffer through yet another painful interaction with his mother in which I spoke in broken Spanish accompanied by exaggerated hand gestures. After arguing with myself for longer than I care to admit, I decided on the ladder only after coming to the realization that the fall probably wouldn't be enough to kill me. As I stared down at him contemplating waking him up for some sort of assistance, I quickly realized that he would only try to convince me to stay and spend the morning together and realized I couldn't take that chance. I slid out of bed and tip-toed across the room in search of my keys in a manner similar to someone committing a home invasion robbery. I found them and subsequently began the search party for my articles of clothing which were strewn about the room, stepping over his embarrassingly oversized wizard costume which he had worn the night before.

When I was fully dressed, I crept into the living room mentally preparing myself for the death glares from his lovely Colombian mother. For some reason unbeknownst to me, she had never liked to me and had always refused to make eye contact whenever I entered a room. There's no real rationalization behind my choices which followed. In seeing that she had her back turned I decided that this provided me with a prime opportunity to run out the front door without her noticing. Seeing as I had left my invisibility cloak at home, there was a minimal chance of that going over well from the jump. I walked, or in reality ran, to the front door and attempted to scurry out unscathed. Obviously, it was locked.

"Fuck!" The word left my mouth before I could stop it. Unfortunately, if the sound of someone trying to pry her front door open didn't alert her to the fact that I was there, shouting obscenities three feet away from her that sure as hell did. I bowed my head and couldn't bring myself to turn around and look her in the eye, so I unlocked the door and bolted to my car with the speed of an Olympic gold medalist.