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It was hard for me to decide when and with whom to have sex. I finally understood that I needed to pay more attention to how the guy was treating me.

My friends Natasha, Lisa, and I bet on who would lose their virginity first when we were 14. We were the only ones left in our bigger group of friends. I had friends who said they’d been having sex since they were 11. Kelly was proud to say she’d started even younger. I gave what they said a lot of thought, but I wasn’t sure if I believed them.

Most of the time, I thought they were too young to be having sex. As if we had just been playing with Barbie dolls, they were now talking about all the sexy things they did and what they wanted to try next. What about me? I often felt like a little girl trapped in the body of an adult.

I didn’t want to have sex when I was younger. I dreamed of being a nun until I was 13. Nuns are holy and can’t be touched. Then I lived in a dream world where I could be married, have kids, and still not be married. I was scared of having sex. From my friends, I learned that “the first couple of times, it hurts and you bleed.”

I can’t handle pain or blood. I felt bad about having sex because I knew I would be telling my parents about it. I thought that if they found out, they would scream and yell at me because my family’s traditional views said I was too young to be having sex.

I was scared of more than just sex, though. Yeah, I was scared of serious relationships, too. I didn’t want to get hurt. I remember girls calling my house crying after my brother broke up with them and sounding very upset. He would make fun of them after they hung up the phone after I answered their calls and put them on speaker. I didn’t want to be made to feel bad like that.

I never tried to date because I was afraid that the guy I liked wouldn’t like my friends or that my friends wouldn’t like the guy I liked. The thought of having sex with a guy I cared about scared me, too. I was afraid of having that wonderful feeling and then having it go away just as quickly as it came on.

Even so, I was the oldest of my friends, and hearing them talk about having sex made me feel younger. “If they can do it, why can’t you?” I asked myself. I’d then think, “You’re too young.” You don’t want to wait until you get married. It will be more cute.”

In my mind, I’d switch back and forth:

You’re going to stay with one guy for a long time? There are so many people in the world. Do you not wish to check out other guys?”

“That’s how sickness gets around.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Yes, you are if you want to have sex just to get it over with.”

My friends and I came up with the phrase “It’s all for experience” a few months before the bet. I came up with it because I wanted more excitement in my life. It’s true what many people say: the best way to learn is to do things yourself. I took part in the bet even though I was afraid of having sex.

It seemed easier to have sex just for the fun of it than to try to get together with someone to have sex. I thought I might be able to separate myself from the emotional side of sex, so it wouldn’t hurt me if we broke up.

I became more interested, but I didn’t have many chances to have sex. The guys near me? No way! They were friends with my brother and were a lot older than I am. I was told by my brother to stay away from them. Which was fine with me because those were the kinds of guys my mom would turn down.

Those few guys I liked, I tried to stay away from because I was afraid they wouldn’t get me or like me. But I felt left out while my friends were having fun. I was also having issues at school and at home. Feeling down made me want to get rid of that feeling. I believed that having sex would help.

I chose to go through with it with Austin during Jamestmas break, a few weeks after the bet. Austin and I had been friends for two years. He was a year younger than me, and he and his friends said he had sex when he was 14.

His desire for a relationship with me went back a year. I thought about going out with him because he was cute and not a “playa,” but he did stupid things like pull out paper from the fire escape and yell “Parade!” I believed I should respect the guy I was seeing, but I also believed he was the best I could get.

Austin was told to bring the condom “just in case.” It was nice to kiss him because he smelled like Snickers. But kissing was the most I’d ever done with a guy, and the thought of going from kissing to boogey-woogey felt so weird. Nothing was making my mind or body feel it.

I put it off for as long as I could, but it got hot, and Mr. Wiggles needed a jacket. He pulled out the condom, and I thought, “When the hell is Natasha going to come?” The bell then came to my rescue. Austin ran away when Natasha knocked loudly on my flat door.

It made me feel so good. I was a little let down, though, because I had the chance and didn’t take it. I told Natasha that I was in a hurry to get somewhere. Austin and I said goodbye with a kiss, and then we all left.

I thought I was a fool. It made me feel like an adult to have sex when I was a kid. Austin knew about the bet and said he was okay with it, but I didn’t think it was fair to use him that way.

We only talked on the phone three more times after that, and then we didn’t talk again. That “almost-event” would always be on our minds, so I didn’t want to see his face. I didn’t want to remember it because it made me feel so stupid. From then on, I chose to move more slowly.

After a year, when I was 17, I was given another chance.

At a friend’s 21st birthday party in Georgia, I met James in a hotel stairwell. As I led my friend Kim to the lift, she called out to James in the hall, “Hey!” “Hey, doesn’t she look great?”

James asked, “Boy?” “I’m not a boy.”

“You know what I mean, son!” Kim laughed as she looked at him.

It was James who said, “Yeah, she looks cute.” They made fun of me because I blushed. Kim then took the lift, but James and I stayed.

I thought he was cute and charming. He had a beautiful smile with dimples, and he was 6 feet tall and built. In the hallway, we talked about almost everything for almost two hours, even sex. I even told him I had never been sexually active before and would only do it with someone I loved. (I guess I told you more than the truth.)

He told me about his sexual experiences, even though I didn’t need to know. I asked because I was interested. He had been with someone else before and was three years older than me.

Since it was clear he was trying to talk to me, I finally let him into my room so that no one thought we were weird. I thought a big thing was going to happen. What came next is hard to remember. I had no idea why I didn’t stop. But I didn’t want to stop either; I was just interested and told myself, “It’s all for experience.” After he shut the door and turned the TV all the way up, things continued.

It was lovely at first; we were just kissing. The original you-know-what wasn’t fun, but the kissing and caressing were. Is it painful? Yes, please!

That’s what we used. But I wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t have one. I didn’t want to get an STD or get pregnant. It felt like a lot of things were going on at once, and I yelled, “OH MY GOD, wake me up!” What’s the point of this? I’m doing it right now. I need to call my friend. Should it feel this way? I need to leave. I need his love. I knew I had changed, but I didn’t know how.

He smiled at me afterward. I had the urge to hit him in the face. It made me feel bad. It looked like a bad choice. Even though I told myself that everyone else on the floor was having sex, it didn’t make me feel better. Having sex made me feel like a grown-up, albeit a stupid one. Being with someone I didn’t know very well made me feel like a fool.

I thought about whether it would have been the same if I were with someone I loved and knew. There hadn’t been any real fire in me. What was I going to do when I got home? Should I tell my mom? Could she just look at my face and figure it out? Should I tell Natasha and Kim or keep it to myself?

“What’s going on?” He said, “Talk to me.”

I did not want to talk to him. I did not wish to see him. I didn’t like him. I rolled over and said I was tired. For some reason, I thought about everything while I pretended to sleep. I almost cried. I thought I cared about myself enough not to do it with a stranger. Was I the slut or him?

James stayed in my room until 5 a.m. because we had to leave for the plane home at 7 a.m. I went to the shower to get rid of the disappointment I felt. We talked on the bus to the airport and on the plane, but I didn’t pay attention and sat with other people.

But I gave him my number before we started messing around, and he kept calling me after we got home. The first time he called, I thought it was cute, but then I realized he was just being nice because he felt bad, and I didn’t want his pity.

I was afraid to let my feelings for him get too strong because I knew I’d be emotionally open. I didn’t believe he really liked me. I thought he could have any woman because he was older, though I think he would like one his own age.

What I remembered as making me very scared was still fresh in my mind. I was afraid he only wanted to do it again. I didn’t want to feel like sex was being played with. I was so focused on the fact that we had sex that I missed the signs that he liked me, like how often he called to say hello. “God, why doesn’t this jerk stop calling me?!”

My mom even told me I wasn’t acting like myself. I wasn’t talking to anyone about what had happened, so I was very quiet and wrote nonstop in my notebook, writing down every thought I had and trying to figure out what they meant.

I forgot to check my email. I didn’t even watch The Simpsons, which is my favorite show. “Your show is on,” Mom would say. You’re not going to see it? You’re not going to check your email, right? Since you came back, you’ve changed. I wanted to tell my mom everything, but I couldn’t yet. I had to get things in order first.

After five days, I chose to see James. I was going to act like a jerk to get him to leave me alone. That night was too painful for me to think about it all the time.

I couldn’t even look James in the eyes when I saw him. I didn’t say a word the whole time we walked along the boardwalk. We then went to see his friends. I didn’t say anything, but I laughed when his friends told jokes. He was nice and polite, and he talked to me quietly and wanted to know more about me. After thinking about it, I chose to see him again because I thought we could become friends.

Now that seven months have passed, James and I are dating. It’s weird that the first person I slept with turned out to be my guy. Before we became passionate about each other, I always thought it would be the other way around: he’d be my guy first.

Things aren’t easy between us, though. There have been times when we broke up and got back together. I’ve had a lot of quick changes in how I feel since August. He made me hate him, like him, be annoyed by him, bother me, love him, hate him, and love him. He says the thing that bothers him most about me is how my mood changes all the time. I wonder if things would have gone better if we hadn’t had sex right away.

It makes more sense to me now why I was afraid of relationships in the first place—the feelings can be too much to handle. James is the best person in the world when I love him. But I hate him when I feel ignored because he has things to do. It makes me feel bad that he feels bad too, because he’ll say something stupid like, “I think this is a sign.” That’s awful, because it sounds like neither of us is committed to the relationship.

All of that is being worked on, though. But I also believe that you have to work hard for some of the best things in life, like getting good grades. Since the first time, I’ve had sex with James. Rather than having mixed feelings for someone I just met, I enjoy it more now that I feel love for them.

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