A certain Boy who Does Life asked “Tell the group the story of losing your virginity.”

Now I came to sex fairly late in life. I was officially (just) out of my teens, at twenty. That wasn’t for lack of thinking about it, or wanting it, but just down to being painfully (very painfully) shy. Looking back with more experienced eyes I see more than a few women (OK, girls, but they felt like women at the time) coming close to throwing themselves at my feet. I just didn’t get it, didn’t do anything about it, and was a virgin far longer than I aught to have been. Or maybe not, because life is what it is.

Now I had just started going out with a Kiwi nanny, well au pair, but she called herself a nanny. She had slightly more experience than I, having had one long term relationship with an older man. At the time, this all sounded exotic and cool. Experienced ears now hear the story of a girl pretty screwed up who had run away across a whole ocean to get away from him. How I didn’t see the warning lights just makes me shake my head.

Any way, we’d just started going out, had maybe had three dates. Please remember, these were frankly the first real dates I’d ever had. All previous experience with girls had been within the safety of large groups of friends or family. I’d never really dated before.

My then group of friends where planning a camping trip. At that point of my life this was something I did a lot. Well, you do in Canada, we’re like that. Pack up the car with what you need, head in a semi random direction (eg towards the mountains or away), find a place to stop. Load up a back pack and off you go. Dear LL shudders when she hears me talk of doing that. The concept of wild animals like bears and no toilets just isn’t her thing. She’s no shrinking violet my wife, but camping just doesn’t do it for her.

While discussing this plan said girl friend casually suggests we share a tent. I still remember the shock, excitement then sheer joy that sprang into my veins at the thought of it. I knew it, this was it, the time had come.

Roll on the weekend, which it did. Now camping in the wilds is fun (trust me, serious fun). Sex in the wild outdoors is fun (trust me, hugely fun, really stonkingly good fun). Sex, when you’re outdoors, and the weather turned mid afternoon, and it rained, and the temperature dropped, and everything is wet, and no one can be bothered to light a fire (which you can in the rain, you just have to know how (its still a pain though)) and the wind is blowing, and the ground is soggy and muddy and, and, and… it is your first time… Is Not Fun. Drunken fumbles in the back of a car are sheer unadulterated luxury in comparison.

Lets just say there where mistakes, and bumps, and things not as hard as they should be, and tears. It was a disaster really. Though I think we probably both deserved a tarnished bronze badge for dogged persistence. However, it is not a memory I look back at fondly with a twinkle in my eye. Well, OK, maybe with a laugh in my throat. It was kind of funny, in a car crash with a bouncy castle and clown sort of way. Thus was my first time.

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