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Work On Your Game Content/confidence/The Losing My Virginity Story: She Smiled/Laughed At Me
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The Losing My Virginity Story: She Smiled/Laughed At Me

I was in high school. She was in college.

I had a friend who attended Temple University in North Philly, and there was a big party at McGonigle Hall. The room the party was in in McGonigle was the same room my high school graduation would later be in.

The pattern my friends and I had developed was to split up, see what we could find on our own, and link up later to recap the night. I found her dancing alone next to one of those huge speakers in the corner.

It seemed she’d come to the party alone, thus had no judgemental hating girlfriends hanging on the fringes of our dancing/conversation. The b*****s who didn’t have any men talking to them always got in the damn way. A college teammate and I would master the Wingman Technique years later. Maybe I’ll share that in a different post.

A few days later we went to what became my go-to “date” spot: the General Cinema movie theatre on Columbus Blvd. Her apartment complex was the same place I would later moved into in 2006. After the movie we couldn’t go to her place; she had a roommate who was home. I had two roommates, named Mom and Dad.

I parked in the big parking lot at the east end of South Street, the spot where everyone takes photos nowadays. No camera phones back then. Coincidentally, Anna and I parked next to that same lot during my most recent trip to Philly, almost 20 years later.

Anyway, we walked for a bit then came back to my car. I sat in the passenger seat and she sat on my lap. We started kissing. She folded down her jeans waistline and told me she had her thongs on (this is when Sisqo’s “Thong Song” was popular).

By the time I saw the saw the light blue fabric of the thong, I was already very much done.

Luckily, she was a nice girl, and agreed to see me again. I googled her after I finished writing this. She’s a 2nd grade teacher now.

The second time was at her building. Not in the apartment, though. The parking lot.  We were in the backseat of my car this time. I had no idea of what to do or where to do it, so she got on top. She was smiling; probably not because of the manliness inside of her. It lasted about as long as it’s taken you to read this paragraph.

It went exactly as my 14-and-under basketball coach Steve had explained: The first time, the girl laughs at you. But do it again and again and you get better. 

She wasn’t from Philly; she went back to New Jersey after Spring semester. She called me once to tell me she was in town visiting friends. I was in Mt. Airy, and North Philly is a long drive. Plus, by then I was experienced enough that she wasn’t my only option.

She cussed me out for not making time for her while she was in town. That was the first time a female had been mad at me for not giving her attention.

Wouldn’t say I did it on purpose, but I got better with that, too.

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