I had my first “real” boyfriend at 15. That number sounds so young to me now, maybe it doesn’t to you.
This guy was not cute. He was not smart. He was not anything. All he was, in my head, was a guy who was interested in me, and to someone with notoriously bad self-esteem that meant he was special. He was worth attaching myself to.
So we dated most of high school. I went to an all-girls Catholic school and there were few prospects of guys I could actually date. I lived in the suburbs with both my parents, two sisters and a puppy. It was all so “safe.” I wanted something different. So when this guy strolled into my life, raised by a single mom, in a “bad” high school in a dangerous neighborhood, I thought it was exciting. Different than what I was used to.
It was a horrible relationship in every way. He was emotionally abusive and lazy. Isn’t that a horrible combination? LOL. The only thing I learned is that I needed to be smarter about who I spent my time with and who I gave my body to.
I don’t know what I was in a rush for. I really don’t. At that point in my life, I didn’t value sex. I wasn’t thinking about intimacy or the beauty in being intertwined with someone and having just the slightest touch make you lose your breath. Shoot, I wasn’t even thinking about pleasure. Why do teens have sex? Because it feels good? I guess. All I know is that from my experience (as little as it may be), teenage boys are not looking to make their partners feel good. They’re not looking for that type of validation. They’re looking for, well, sex.
As a teen, I often wished I had a big sister, someone to sit me down and say, “Listen, your hormones are all crazy and you’ve got this guy in your ear trying to get you naked. Wait a little longer. There is no rush.” My parents and friends, to their credit, tried very diligently to raise some red flags but I was too stubborn to listen.
Sex in my twenties (shoot, even after having kids) has been so much better than anything I could have experienced in my teens, even with all the extra energy I had, even with the perky boobs and flat stomach and not-yet-settled in cellulite. Sex back then was just something I did because I was in a three-year relationship and I really liked the guy (we said “love” back then but now I know what we had wasn’t it). Sex was something that was supposed to happen when you’ve been with someone so long, right?
Ugh, I could kick Old Me in the face for being so dumb.
I don’t know when women are reaching their sexual peak but I know it ain’t at 16 or 17. Now that I’m in my 20s, I know what I want. I’m confident enough to tell my husband what I like and to be vulnerable in that way that you can only be when you’re naked. Now? Sex is fun. It’s enjoyable. It makes me happy and gets rid of the most stubborn headaches. After the first time I had sex I thought, “That’s it? This is what everyone’s talking about? I’m bored and my legs hurt.” Now, you will catch me skipping around the house after my husband and I have gotten intimate. It’s incredible. Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?
We’re talking your first time today. Regret it? Don’t regret it? What do you wish people had told you about sex?