Losing Your Virginity & Other Shitty Memories We'd Like to Destroy--A Story by Corrine Miles

No experience is more traumatizing than the first time you get plowed.  Some people love it.  Some hate it.

But from what I've heard, MOST hate it.

You'll be hearing about my first time soon enough, but the stories circulating amongst my girlfriends of how they lost it are enough to make anyone weep.

Nine times out of ten, you have to make sure you're drunk enough so that you don't even realize some d00d is about to cram his Bratwurst into something the size of a keyhole.  Whoever says this isn't painful was either sufficiently intoxicated or unconscious.

But then you accidentally get too drunk and forget how to kiss without drooling all over yourself or accidentally licking his cheek.   He's spinning and you're spinning and the walls are spinning and everything is spinning and all you can do is try to hold still long enough to figure out if you need to barf or not.

So let's say you're one of the lucky ones who doesn't have a projectile vomiting incident the night she turns in her V card.

Next you get to stress out about what you're wearing.  You were sure not to put on underwear that's stained or has a hole in the ass cheek but failed to realize that he probably wouldn't be quite so turned on by Spongebob Square-Underpants and a pink and purple striped bra.

His boner goes down for a minute but you quickly rip your clothes off and he forgets about Spongebob as soon as he sees nipple.  Crisis averted.

Now you're starting to get really nervous and he definitely knows it.  If you're both virgins, it's cute.  If he's slept with half the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, you might just be screwed.  Figuratively.

Let's say he's more experienced, which is the likeliest possibility.  What do you do?  You basically have three options here:

Option #1: Climb on top, ignore the pain, and ride him like a Corvette.  If you go balls to the wall (no, don't cram his balls up against the wall), he might just forget that you don't have the slightest fucking clue what you're doing.

Option #2: Lay there and let him do all the work.  This was his idea anyway.

Option #3: Start crying, tell him you aren't ready, and go home to watch the episode of Golden Girls that you TiVo'd.

You decide to go with Option #2, which seems to be what most girls do.  You spread your legs, hang on to the sheets for dear life, squeeze your eyes shut, and pray to the Lord Zeus that this guy doesn't rip you in half.

A few seconds later, you comment on how amazing it feels with something original like, "This feels amazing."  Then you rejoice over the fact that it doesn't hurt at all.

That's when you hear the most awful thing you've ever heard:

"Uh, it's not even in yet."

Christ on a pogo stick.

You then endure eight minutes of the most painful sex you will ever have.  You alternate between trying to distract yourself by reading the titles of the books on his shelf and "OMG YOU'RE KILLING ME FUCKKKK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCUFKCUFUCKFUCKFK!!!!!1111one" 

Silver lining?  It can only get better from here.  Right?  Wrong.  Ten guys later and you realize that the male species just doesn't have a fucking clue how to touch women.  Sex stops feeling like giving birth but then you get to dread having some guy suck on your elbow or lick your toes because he thinks it's a turn-on.  Then you will become so frustrated and so disgusted with men all together and your wrist will be killing you from having to masturbate so much that you'll just end up writing a book on the whole thing. 

Or something like that.