Free Better Than None by Olivia Jake Page B

t-shirt bloused
over my pants, with a wide white belt. I could still hear his shock when I
answered, “No, I’m not on the pill.” Again, it was a time before the
omnipresence of safe-sex. I recall him telling me that my classmate Diana Davis
gave really good head, though I can’t remember exactly what this was apropos
of. Perhaps it was because I had never done that either.  I wondered why
he was reaching up into his bookshelf, until he pulled out a book to retrieve
the condom that was tucked inside. And I remember how much it hurt and how
quickly it was over.
    Afterwards, sitting in the backseat of my friend Jenny’s boyfriend’s
car, I had no idea what the wetness was that I felt between my legs. When I got
home and saw all the blood, I thought that something had gone horribly,
horribly wrong. Of course, nothing physically had gone wrong, though nothing
really went right, as far as I was concerned. But emotionally, it indeed was
horrible, and wrong, at least for my fragile ego and still-forming sense of
self.
    It was a one-night stand during spring break my junior year in high
school and I barely knew him. He and Chase, Jenny’s boyfriend, were good
friends. We had all spent the day together at Chase’s house just hanging out.
At some point, we ended up in the Jacuzzi and started fooling around. I can’t
remember why, but we all left Chase’s to go to Gunnar’s to watch a movie.
Mid-way through, he and I went into his bedroom. And the rest, as they say…
    I certainly didn’t know what I was doing, but I at least thought I knew why I was doing it. I was positive that all of my friends had already
had sex and that I was the last one. I just wanted to get it over with.
Afterwards, I found out that none of them actually had, and I was the first. I
also learned how much they looked down on me after I admitted what I had done.
Funny, I didn’t think ill of them when I thought they had lost their virginity.
Seeing how vicious girls could be to each other was just one more way that this
one night so many years ago had the power to change and form so many things
since. I so desperately wanted to talk with someone about it that when my mom
opened the door, I couldn’t help but run through. After I poured my heart out,
she proceeded to take the next hour and a half to tell me about the guy at work
who she was fucking, and how much of a dick he and the boss (who apparently
also knew of the affair) were to her after the brief fling ended. I remember
her telling me about what a small penis he had, calling him ‘pencil-dick Pete’.
And I remember wondering if my dad could hear our conversation over the din of
the TV in the family room.
    I already knew that she and my dad didn’t have a great relationship,
and perhaps that’s why I wasn’t shocked about her affair. In fact, I don’t ever
remember thinking anything other than, well, I guess we’re finished talking
about me...
     I never got close to anyone after that first experience in high
school. I felt so abandoned and betrayed by people I thought were my friends,
the only person who didn’t abandon me was my mother. And once she’d shared
about her affairs, of which there were many, it became a recurring topic of
conversation between us. While I knew talking about her love life helped her
and helped us get closer and closer, it also taught me how pathetic some women
could be when it came to the men, and the choices they made in their lives, and
I vowed to never be vulnerable or needy or desperate like she was.
    I was too young to know what I was doing, but after that first
experience and having Barb as a role model, I never let myself be vulnerable
again. I thought I was using sex as a weapon, screwing strangers before they
could hurt me, but by my late 20s I hadn’t protected myself at all. I’d simply
built walls.
    She often felt guilty and worried that it was because we were so close
that I didn’t have a relationship with my father, or anyone my own age.