***Warning, this is a Very Graphic post! If you are sensitive to 'The Sex' stuff, then you shouldn't read any more of this***
There’s dishes to do, laundry to be done, showering to be had and food to be made to console my grumbling belly. Instead of doing those things, I will share with you another Embarrassing True Tale from the vaults of The Naked Writer.
Ok, so I have told this story maybe 3 times EVER and have NEVER put it down on the page. It’s embarrassing to the nth degree! Each time I told it I was either drunk or high which therefore made me all confession-y and shit! I assure you I am neither of those today.
This is one of those things that happens to you that just traumatizes you to the very core and gives you a complex till the day you die. Here goes…
When I was 12-13, I desperately wanted to have sex because all of my grade 7 and grade 8 circle of friends had already done so (a couple of them even had a child already). Also, I wanted to be a grown up so bad and sex was the #1 way I could accomplish that feat (at least that’s what my retarded puberty infested brain thought).
I was afraid of 'The Sex', so in order to fit in, I lied and said that I too had 'The Sex'.
It wasn’t for lack of suitors that I hadn't done it yet. I had lots of opportunities I could have taken but every time I got close, I would get scared that they would know I was a Lying Virgin.
I didn’t know what this 'Cherry' was that a man was supposed to pop but it caused me a lot sleepless nights.
"Why can’t I ‘pop’ it? What needs to be done to it in order to make it 'pop'? Is it an actual Cherry? What happens after it has popped? Does the man who 'popped my Cherry' get to take it home like an Oscar or a gleaming Treasure?
Or is it some kind of animated Cherry Monster that pops his head out of my Vag sounding like Mr.Sulu from Star Trek ‘Heeelllllooooo?!!’
Every day at lunch or after school, the girls and I would hang out in a big
I would make up wild stories about sexual escapades I never even had and justify the lies to myself with this little gem; 'thinking is just the same as doing right?'
I’d be all like "Oh you guys, you’re never going to believe it, I was with this hot guy last night, he is like 10 years older than me and you have never met him cause he was only in town for one night, but we were having all The Sex and his Pubes were so manly and his dick was as big as my feakin' arm you should of seen it you guys, WOW! "
And my girlfriends were like 'Um, Patricia, didn’t that hurt?'
I was like 'Pssshhaw No! I am queen of The Sex so why would THAT hurt?'
Then they would look at each other and laugh amongst themselves whispering something something 'what a Whore' something something 'loosest pussy ever' and I would laugh and agree with them cause having a loose pussy is cool right? Plus being a called a Whore in my group was akin to being called Rocky after Rocky 1 came out (cause you were still the champ even though you didn't win).
So the sex didn’t happen when I was 12 or 13. I got close a few times but would always back away due to the fear I felt that even if the lights were out, somehow, with advanced night vision technology that all boys would probably possess, they would be able to see my 'unpopped' Whowho Cherry.
A couple of weeks before my 14th birthday, I took off to live with my mom who lived in a little town 3 hours north of the city.
Cool, I didn’t know anyone there so I could start over and be truthful about my virginity right? ARRRRR wrong!
In my mind I was the Goddess of Sex and people want to be friends with people who like to have lots of sex right? That's what makes people popular right?
So I guess the picture I painted wasn’t a very pretty one. It was more of an exaggerated slutty version of my 14 year old self. After all, I was a bad ass rocker chick from the city, I would be the coolest of the 500 kids in school and everyone would love me and worship my beauty and sex appeal.
Like a slutty jackass, I created an image that was so not who I was. I was the
I was 14 going on 21 (a slutty 21) and somehow, I was proud of that.
My teachers, however, were not too happy with my image. I had altercation after altercation with them (especially the women) and frequently would get sent home for the day for wearing inappropriate clothing.
I felt happy to be singled out (cause that proved to me that I was a total bad ass) and would incessantly antagonize this one teacher cause she hated me so much. On one of the days when she kicked me out of her class for basically wearing pasties to school (not really but almost) I screamed at her that she was just ‘ a jealous fucking whore who had no tits' and that's why she had to kick me out of her typing class...because of her obvious jealousy! Her and I fought every day until eventually she figured out I liked getting kicked out of her class and I did it on purpose. So she devised an evil scheme to make me take her stoopid typing class. She brought in a huge grey granny sweater and every time I would come into her class, she would make me wear it buttoned all the way. She wins!
OK, yes, I was a 14 year old shit disturbing bitch with an anger problem and major self esteem issues, who needed any kind of attention (good or bad) that she could get.
But cut me some slack, see I learned this behaviour from my mom (who had me at a very young age) and she encouraged this behaviour, buying me booze to sneak into school dances, and giving me condoms to go have sex and giving me weed to smoke and even buying me all those sexy revealing tops while she laughed and said, “this will make them shit their pants” and "I can’t wait to hear what that cunt of a teacher does to you this time don’t even bother to wear a bra with this shirt, Trish”.
This was pretty much the only bond that her and I had so she taught, with her actions, that I was loved more when I was shocking, rebellious, and acting inappropriately.
So of course I tried very hard to be those things that she encouraged me to be (every kid wants their parents to love them after all). I know it’s a totally Bizarro Pavlov's Dog type of behaviour that has made my life hell for a long time, truthfully, I still struggle with it from time to time. *shrugs*
So, the guy, who finally took my virginity we will call him MR. A (cause he’s the first one see?) was a hunky 17 year old with dark hair and dark eyes, who made me Mix-tapes of his favourite metal bands and he was like a radio Dj, as he introduced each song and inventively dedicated them to me, telling me how much he loved me before each song had begun and why that particular song was one of his favourites (he was really sweet and any man who can make Symphony of Destruction by Megadeth sound romantic was a keeper in my books at that time.)
Even though he couldn’t spell, he would write me quasi Ebonic poetry about how I was made just for him and little notes that thanked me for being born.
He also had a bad assed rebellious side as he was the guy who smoked cigarettes and weed outside of the principles window and said, ‘yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?’ He always drank beer at lunch instead of eating in the cafeteria. I thought he was dreamy cause he was so grown up, so manly... in fact, he already had a 2 year old kid that he didn’t take care of when we met up! What a catch!
It was like we were two sides of the same coin…a perfect blend of bad ass and romance, we stayed together for 4 months which at 14, is practically like 10 years.
OK, so I will skip the first few sexual encounters I had with this man ( I will get to that on another post cause it’s equally as embarrassing as this story).
Now, because of all the liberties my mom gave me, we could have 'The Sex' and also party as hard as we wanted, when ever and where ever we wanted to. He could sleep over at my house and when his parents were away, I was allowed to sleep over at his place.
Now, this guy was a big boy, at just over 9” my lie came true and I did do it with a man who had an arm sized Penis! So because of his size, I never really got to enjoy The Sex, it was this nauseating, painful experience that was void of any kind of pleasure at all!
Maybe I was too young, maybe my body wasn’t ready for things like that. I found that getting really drunk, helped ease it into a more tolerable experience for me.
So finally about 2 months into our relationship, his parents had left for the weekend and we had the whole place to ourselves (this was a first for us). We had a bunch of drinks, smoked a J and I started to relax as all thoughts about the inevitable pain that would ensue were slipping away from my consciousness…we were free to try new things and free to be as loud as we want!
So, there we are, laying on the couch watching Fern Gully and having a smoke. Fern Gully was new on VHS (yes, I am a Dinosaur who lived in the time before the Internet and DVD's) and I loved cartoons (as you can see not much has changed in that department although sadly I was never able to watch Fern Gully again after this traumatizing experience).
I was on top of him passionately kissing and fondling him when all of a sudden, he lifts me up and onto his face.
"WHAT THE FUCK? Does this man have a death wish? How can he breathe? Do men have gills that I an not aware of? Super human powers of holding the breath? How is it he isn't suffocating and what the hell is he doing down there??"
I stared at the Fern Gully movie in horror at what I was going through. I tried to move away but he held me tight and wouldn’t let me go. I was trapped there on his face and what he was doing to me felt all icky and I didn’t know what the point of it was until…..jackpot!!!
'Ohhhh, that’s new!'
All of a sudden I stopped thinking about the ickyness of what he was doing because there was tremendous heat, energy, tingling and quivering down there that I never knew before. I was finally able to let go and be in the moment, finally able to feel pleasure during a sexual encounter. I understood 'The Sex' now.
I was totally enraptured and beyond the threshold of pleasure. I felt like ‘Oh my God, I can’t fucking take this anymore' and I wasn’t sure what would happen if he continued. I was becoming very fearful that I might just sky rocket through the ceiling and land in a galaxy far far away.
Suddenly, this fear of the unknown caused me to tense up and suck in my breath. I felt like I was about to go over the highest point of the worlds tallest roller-coaster and every part of me filled with dread, anxiety and anticipation as I braced myself for the unknown.
I waited with my breath held, but when nothing happened, just continued pleasurable sensations, I relaxed feeling quite relieved.
A soon as I relaxed, however, suddenly out of no where I hear;
PPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT
QQUUUAAAACCCKKKKK!
And I turned around thinking, 'is there a duck in the room?'
It took a moment to register what was actually going on. The scene replayed in my head and I was like ‘did he just fucking fart?’' "what a gross fucking pig!" but he kept doing what he was doing and was pretending that nothing happened and so did I cause it felt good and I didn’t want him to stop even though I really wanted to tell him how inappropriate it was that he let one rip while pleasuring me...whatever, young love!
So Monday, I get back to school. I am all Sex Goddess Kitten, (Meow) because I notice everyone in the entire school is staring at me. Everywhere I go, eyes follow me and people whisper...now in my ego maniacal narcissistic teenage self, I think "Damn, I am extra hot today! Everyone wants me…must be all the mouth sex I got this weekend!"
I am up on my high horse for another few minutes until Mr. A’s best friend comes up to me and says "Hey Quiff Queen how’s it going?"
And I am all like "Yeah good, thanks for asking" and I smile and walk away wondering what a Quiff was and how did I get to be the Queen of said Quiffs?
I was strutting my stuff all morning and winking at all my ‘admirers’ in the hallways thinking I was Queen shit of the school as my royalty had finally been acknowledged by Mr. A's friend.
When I got home, I asked my mom…and she’s all like, 'Quiff is a pussy fart' and I am all like 'What the hell? How does a pussy fart? Is it a second butt hole?'
She explains the process pretty much like this:
'Wow, how very graphic Mom, got it! So, it's like Goldilocks but for your whowho not too wide...not too shut...just right!'
Then, it hit me, images of that magical Fern Gully night danced in my head as the most horrified of horrified expressions crossed my face...it suddenly dawned on me 'OH MY GOD, 'Mr. A' didn't fart while pleasing me, I was the one that totally farted while he was pleasing me and then he told EVERYONE AT SCHOOL!!!'
I was sooooo mortified!
I was raised by my grandmother who taught me that ladies never fart, they fluff and a lady never fluffs in public let alone on her boyfriends face! (well she didn't teach me that last part but I assume that rule applies in that situation as well).
The images of the night before were stuck in my head replaying that one scene over and over again, in slow motion. I felt like an idiot, how stupid was I not to know it was me that farted! How unladylike of me not to be mortified until this very moment!
I didn’t go to school for the rest of the week, feigning some sort of illness. The weekend passed and I thought, 'Good, no one will remember, it will be like it never happened and I can go back to being cool again. Everything will be just fine'.... but it wasn’t fine, not at all!
Just because an Ostrich buries its head in the sand for a week, doesn't mean it didn't Quiff!
I felt so terrible and asked 'Mr. A' why did he tell everyone and humiliate me like that?
He told me that he was bragging to his friends that he was the King of 'The Sex' and told them the story to illustrate the point he was trying to make to them. When I asked him how me Quiffing made him King, he said 'because Dear, you didn't even try to stop me from carrying on...because I was that good!'
Oh the agony I felt, if I had only known it was me that did it at the time, maybe I could of saved myself all this ridicule? He didn't seem to understand what the big deal was at all and totally thought I was being a spaz.
That nickname haunted me until I left that little town a few months later and it has terrorized me ever since. I still wear the crown to this day!
Writing this down is the most embarrassing thing I have done in 5 years! My face is all red and I am traumatized from revisiting this experience, yet somehow, I can laugh about it now.
To this day, I cannot sit on any mans face and feel pleasure. I go all deer in the head lights and I totally numb out down there, turning to stone, trying not to feel anything so that I don’t accidentally cough through my vaJayJay and be ridiculed for being Quiff Queen again!
