June 19, 2007

The Fortune Cookie: A Cautionary Tale

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I lost my virginity at 16. I was too young. I’m sure that makes me seem like a chaste dragon lady nowadays, right? I mean, have you heard these stories about these middle school sloozies getting caught in the bathroom stalls with their Bonne Belle Lipsmackers smeared all over the dongs of 7th grade boys? For shame, baby Lohans, at least wipe off your lip gloss before you get started.

Anyway, I don’t say I was too young to lose my virginity because of some deeply ingrained moral objection to teenage sex or because I regret losing it to Travis, my hunky (read: skinny) high school boyfriend. I just know that Travis and I were too young because, at that age, the technology of the modern condom was simply too advanced to wrap our 16-year-old minds around. Yeah, I know. Don’t judge. We lived in a teeny conservative state where the sexual education was — get ready — abstinence only. Needless to say, we didn’t buy into the whole thing and after one month of dating, we decided it was time to express our deep love and devotion to each other by sticking his penis into my vagina. The intercourse was an elaborately planned endeavor discussed well in advance through various instant messenger conversations and in between steamy school parking lot makeout sessions. The date and location were all set and the last little detail, the purchasing of the protection, was left up to Travis. Unfortunately, Travis was a boy who seemed to think quite highly of himself.

Ladies and gentleman, when the time had come to engage in the first sexual intercourse of my life, this kid reached into his wallet and pulled out…Magnums.

Just let that one marinate for a second. Fucking Magnums. Gold wrapper and all. I was too young to know what Magnums were, so I failed to consider that essentially covering a toothpick with a trash bag may not have been an effective method of birth control. We went ahead and used the baggy-ass condom anyway and hoped for the best. Luckily, the universe seemed to have foreseen this whole situation and had blessed me with irregular and terrible periods, the remedy for which just happened to be birth control pills. I’d been taking them properly for about a year before this fateful eve.

And thank you, universe, because once the three minutes or so of missionary-position vanilla sex was over, he pulled out and the Magnum was nowhere to be found.

Thus began the Great Magnum Hunt of 2002. We searched the sheets, the pile of clothes next to the bed, even the pillowcases. All futile. Travis was on his hands and knees examining the carpet desperately (which I admit was kind of funny because he was totally naked and his balls were swinging all over the place) when he finally gave up, defeated.

Calling off the search confirmed what we had both feared to be true: the Magnum was afloat somewhere inside my body. Oh my God. Travis, knowing full well that this was entirely his fault, volunteered his fingers to help rescue the lost rubber from the murky depths of my vagina. I refused, determined to spare myself some semblance of dignity. I figured it would fall out in a couple of hours and all would be right again. I’d even have the unique opportunity to birth a nice little souvenir to remind me of this night.

But no such luck. It was a full two days later that I woke up in the morning to finally find the rogue condom poking its little head out. Thank God. I broke up with Travis that day, so he took the liberty of telling everyone in our high school the runaway rubber story. Leaving out the oops-the-condom-I-bought-was-way-too-big part, of course.

And so the nickname “Fortune Cookie” was born.

Like my last entry, I hope this story serves you, dear reader, as a cautionary tale. Lessons to take away from this:

1. Boys, your penis is probably not big enough to warrant the use of a plus-sized condom. Please don’t kid yourself.
2. Girls, please don’t trust boys to handle the protection situation. Go out and buy rubbers so you’re always prepared; keys, cash and condoms should be on hand every time you step out for an evening. Go ahead and spring for some “ribbed for her pleasure” stuff, too. You deserve it.
3. If you’re a virgin and you’re planning to have sex soon, please educate yourself about protection. Try to get some tips from friends or the internet to get an idea of what the hell you’re doing, okay?

Because trust me, you don’t want a nickname like Fortune Cookie.