By CUNNING LINGUIST
Having sex with someone new for the first time is amazing. I love the mystery of it — you never know what you’re going to get. Admittedly, I’ve had my fair share of confusing and bizarre encounters, like the time a guy worked to sustain eye contact for the entirety of our “coitus” (his noun of choice, not mine.) Usually, however, I’ve been pleasantly surprised.
I slept with someone new two weekends ago. He’s an adorably awkward guy (I have an odd soft spot for awkward men), and I had no idea what the sex would be like. I could write an entire essay on why girls should go for nerdy guys — they’re gentle and enthusiastic, sweet and passionate.
This guy was all of those things, but he was especially passionate. He was surprisingly adept at locating my erogenous zones (there were inner thighs kisses that made me squeal), and his stamina was definitely impressive. I didn’t think twice about the classic awkward moments (like when his dick fell out or a High School Musical song came on my Pandora), and position transitions were pretty smooth. But the best part of the whole experience was the way he made me feel when he looked at me after we fell back on the pillow, exhausted. It’s subtle things like this, the easily missed bashful yet excited glances, that make new sex great.
For all of my “first times,” I have been sober. In fact, I’ve never had drunk sex. It’s not because I don’t drink — I do. But for some reason, luckily, I will always opt for pizza over men at the end of the night if I’m drunk. Alcohol apparently lowers my libido and pizza makes me happy even when I’m not feeling sexual. In all seriousness though, I’m glad that my only sexual experiences have been sober ones. All of the “first times” were intimate and real, and I was aware of what was going on with the full capacity of my sensory systems.
Admittedly, I haven’t always had positive sexual experiences — and because I was always sober, I was very aware of this at first. I wasn’t comfortable enough with my own body to focus on anything other than the visceral awkwardness of the situation. However, the more comfortable I’ve grown with myself, the better my encounters have been. You need to love yourself before you can love someone else they say, and I’d like to add that you need to be fully comfortable with your body before you can have a healthy sex life. By overanalyzing any of your perceived physical flaws, you’re cheating yourself out of great sex.
The benefits of a sustained sexual relationship are overwhelming. Each time I walk away from this guy’s house or he walks away from mine, I can’t stop smiling. I love that I smell like him after sex, and that my hair is knotty and messy from rolling around in bed. I love that he’s seen me naked. I love that I’ve seen him naked. I love that the first time we had sex he made me scream with pleasure, made me scream for so long that I was out of breath, made me scream until I couldn’t scream any more.
I have since apologized to my housemates for the screaming. I didn’t know that I could scream like that, which goes to show that with each first time, you learn something new. You learn about yourself and your partner, you learn about the mechanics of sex and you can broaden your understanding of human intimacy.
I’ve slept with this guy a number of times since our first, and it has gotten consistently better each time. With comfort comes a naturalness that is hard to achieve the first time. I’m excited that I’m getting to know him, and hopefully there will be more sexual surprises along the way, but I’ll always value the nuanced intricacies and emotions that I experienced our first time.
Cunning Linguist is a senior at Cornell. Comments may be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org. Guest Room appears periodically this semester.