I was fifteen when I first had sex. It was with my first real boyfriend, and it hurt so much I cried. It was a splitting sensation — it hurt so badly that any sane person would never want to experience it again. However, it was me who didn’t want to wait, it was me who bought the condoms and it was me who re-initiated every time, only to assume a fetal position in pain after it was over. My preoccupation with sex continues to baffle me — especially because I wasn’t a very sexual person.