That Summer Moment
"This can't be; I'm only 18 years old," I cried both in fear and anger.
"I am sorry, honey. Here are a couple of numbers you can call. They can help you get through this; you are not alone." But the doctor's words had no meaning, her white coat began to fade away as tears invaded my eyes. I could not feel her hand as it held mine in comfort. She was wrong. I was alone, and I was dying. I had AIDS.
As I walked home in a complete daze I remembered that one moment, the summer of '95, that summer moment changed my life forever.
To me you see, virginity wasn't anything sacred, it was just there. All it represented for me was one thing that I had yet to experience. Of course I had the childhood dream of how it would all go down. I imagined a candle light dinner, soft contemporary music, a single rose across silk sheets, that kind of thing; having sex wasn't something that preoccupied my mind that's all. My philosophy was "when it happens, it happens." So, on July 5, 1995, I was ready when the time had come.
One thing is for sure, it wasn't al all how I had imagined. I had only met Tom that night. We were hanging out at this bonfire, talking a little, drinking a lot, somehow the two of us just wandered off. I remembered complaining that the fire produced too much light and it hurt my eyes. He told me that he knew of a place where it wasn't so bright. I staggered off with him. It was dark, I couldn't see anything, I began to worry. Gently he took my hand and in reassurance he kissed it then patted it lightly. I began to giggle at the touch of the wet cold sand that squished between my cold bare feet. I could hear the waves crash against the shore. The repetitious pounding created a hypnotic beat. All the while I thought that we were going for a walk along the beach in the moonlight and it would be cute and romantic, something to tell my friends about later. My mental romancing was abruptly halted as we stopped. In front of me was what appeared to be a box on poles, I remembered then the lifeguard towers. He gave me a boost; somehow I managed to get on top of the tower. Together we sat there listening to the entrancing sound of waves. Right there and then is when it all happened.
He leaned over and started kissing me. I thought that I would actually choke on his tongue. He started to get more and more aggressive. At this point we were now horizontal and I could feel his manhood grind into my pelvic bone. I wondered if this was fun for him. In the distance I could hear music coming from the bonfire, it was Snoop Doggy dog's "It ain't no fun, if the homies can't have none," How romantic I thought. Somewhere between the kissing, grabbing, and grinding, I heard the slow and steady sound of a zipper descending. A large wave crashed on shore; he crashed inside of me. All I felt was a ripping pain; I had been torn open. "Oh yeah. Oh baby," was all Tom muttered between his squawking squeals and moans. I couldn't believe he was enjoying this. This wasn't fun, this hurt. I winced with pain which was a mistake because I think he took it as pleasure. I felt something wet hit my eye, then my lip. It was salty. I realized it was sweat. I repressed my sudden urge to throw up. I clutched onto the sides of the towers as tears rolled down my face. What must have been five minutes later, Tom just collapsed. Just like that. He just lay on top of me, sweaty and painting. I didn't want to move, I wanted to play dead. I tilted my head sideways, partly to avoid his eyes but also to hide my tears. In my left hand I played with sand. I pretended I was an hour glass and watched the sand slip through my fingers over and over again.
When Tom was finally done resting, he pulled himself out of me then zipped his pants. He kissed the tip of my nose and said, "You were great," then offered his hand to help me up. I shook my head and told him to go back to the bonfire, I'd be there in a minute. I wanted to fix myself up. All he said was "OK," then, he just left, just like that.
As soon as he was out of sight I started crying, this time harder. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth. I couldn't believe what I had just done. Even at the time it seemed like such a nightmare. Nothing seemed real. The one thing I remembered thinking was how come so many people enjoyed having sex, to me it made no sense. To me sex hurt. By the time I returned to the bonfire Tom was already gone. I had been left with no number and no comfort. Someone handed me a beer. I drank it, and as I drank it, I drank all that happened with Tom away. The rest of the night is a loud blur.
As I walked down the street, past cars, buildings and people, I remembered the next morning.
At first I couldn't remember the night before, my headache seemed to overpower my thoughts. Then, it slowly all came back. As the memory came back, so did the tears and the pain. I lay in my bed for hours hugging my pillow and wishing the night before away. I guess I never realized how important my virginity was to me. Needless to say, I haven't had sex since.
Somehow in my confusion I made it to my house. "It's ironic," I thought out loud, "during the sex, I wished I could die. Because o the sex, I will die." Then I walked to the fridge an just as the summer before, I grabbed a beer and drank what made me ill away.