But the experience and the loss of innocence can alter a young boys future forever. For what happens in his younger years will define this man actions.
I hit puberty rather early and I think my ancestors passed on genetics that promoted hairy bodies and face, because I was getting facial hair before anyone around me and at age 13 I had soft, but darker hair on my chest. Quite frankly it freaked me out so much I avoided all types of swimming.
At one stage, at age 13 we had swimming classes and I was forced to go without a top. I almost cried because a few students stared at it. Then I discovered my dad's razor. But hair would haunt me for years to come.
My first kiss was at the age of 14 and went for 15 minutes and 43 seconds, (We all timed it), and it was with my friends younger sister, Amy. Her friend, Sam, became my first proper girlfriend 6 months later. The first time we dated it was only by phone.
A year later we dated again, but could only see each other every two weeks. Our parents tried to keep us apart. Eventually they relented and allowed us a few hours every fortnight. My father didn't mind so much. In fact he encouraged me along. In his day, I found out, he was a real player. He's another story.
In between the yearlong break I dated a freckly redhead who really needed braces named Sarah. The first time we kissed I don't actually remember as I had fainted when she moved in for the kill. When I woke up she was staring at me petrified that I had died. She was a drama queen... (hang on...who fainted??).
When I dated Sam for the second time we were finally able to kiss. Yet, when we did, I didn't feel it because I was so nervous my lips went numb and paralyzed. I actually dribbled as I stepped into my mother's car. Eventually kissing became easier. We spent hours in the caravan at the side of my house. It would sit there all year until we took it to a caravan park across from 'Aslings Beach', in Eden, New South Wales.
At one stage, Sam and I had disappeared into the caravan for several hours to make-out and a huge storm hit the area. My whole family was worried for us. We were nowhere to be found. My mother drove around the neighborhood.
When the storm faded we went into the house and my mother screamed at us for disappearing like that. She wanted to know EXACTLY where we were. My hair was a mess and looked like one of those troll dolls. I answered meekly, "We went for a walk". We were bone dry. My dad laughed and walked away saying to himself "That's my boy".
A year later at age 16, a girl I saw once a year on holiday became my girlfriend. Her name was Michaela. I think I was an ok kisser by then. I would have kept it at ONLY kissing had it not been for a 19-year-old bogan girl who showed me how to finger her and gave me head on the banks of a football oval. I remember walking to that oval nervously when she stated, "We need to find a place that's quiet". Sincerely I asked, "What? So we can talk?" She replied, confused as to whether I was serious, "Ummm...yeah...so we can talk". I was serious. She was not.
At school I thought I'd be king with the news I had been corrupted. The police would have called it 'molested'. I don't know what I would have called it. I was simply happy I didn't faint. I found that nobody believed me at school and I was beaten more constantly.
Then, Michaela took benefit in what I had learned. My hands were down her pants and her hand on my.... It was awesome.
My father died when I turned 17, and Michaela came to the funeral. Not too long after, I lost my virginity to her. Yet I'm still debating whether I had actually put it in. She was confused too. On that fateful night, after asking her if she wanted to have sex and her reply of "yes", I went nervously limp and could not get it back up. It was only after we admitted defeat and started dressing did I come to life when the pressure was off. I had no idea what to do but my instincts told me to move my hips back and forth. It did not tell me how fast or how smooth. Simply back and forth. So, winging it, I humped her like a poodle on the leg of a house guest. Unsure whether I was in or simply hitting the base of her ass I was not going to be stopped by silly little details. This moment was very special to me. It marked the moment I became a man. I felt in love with this girl. It was her first time too. Only the two of us, the cool breeze outside and the sounds of our quick, short breaths, like two women having birthing contractions. I never came but when it was over I whispered in her ear solemnly "I love you".
That night I lost my virginity we went to my friends 18th birthday party. It was there that she hooked up with three people I barely knew while drunk on Bourbon. I had no idea it was happening until my best friend tapped me on the shoulder and said "Look what your girl is doing". I could not believe my own drunken eyes. The girl I gave my virginity to was passionately kissing other guys. She was not always by my side and those moments when I was in the bathroom or at the bar, the hounds moved in. One of the guys with his tongue down my girl's throat was the guy that always laid in the boot, Glen. It knocked me down and I would never forget this man, Satan's child.
One day I would have my chance at revenge.
The next day Michaela went home. I broke up with her by phone and I hung up to the sound of her crying voice. I thought, "Why is she crying? She was the one who cheated AND on the special night of our sexual careers".
The next day at school I was laughed at and Glen took great pleasure in telling me she was a bad kisser while knocking my school books to the ground. I would always remember Glen and this pattern of female cheating stuck with me for years to come. My special night became not so special after all.
I meeded to learn to attract women properly. I always yearned to be strong with women and have a solid relationship. I ended up learning by studying social dynamics and it lead me on a journey that took me around the world on a crazy adventure... But THAT, is another story.