This seems weird to say, but losing my virginity was a two-parter of sorts. There was the time I tried to have sex, but was unsuccessful, and the time it worked, probably partially because I had tried once before. I apologize in advance to those of you who will think this is a bit too intimate. On the one hand, it is a bit personal, but on the other, it was so many years ago, so although I'm experiencing discomfort writing this, hopefully my readers will find it endearing and amusing, instead of gross.
It was one of those things that was getting a bit frustrating. It seemed everyone else was doing it...and so naturally, I wanted to do it too. I didn't want to be the only one still a virgin. The year was 1986 so I was 15, about to turn 16. There was no pressure from anyone but myself, but for those of you who know me well, you know I'm my best "pusher man," being both highly competitive and eager for new experiences. Couple that with the eagerness to fit in that most teenagers experience, and you get where I was at.
His name was Omar, and he was Swedish, but his family was most likely muslim. Perhaps that was why it didn't work? He worked with me at Clock, which was a Swedish McDonald's type hamburger chain in the 80's. I was a cashier and I think he worked the fryer. He wasn't tall or short, so somewhere in between, and very cute. We had flirted a lot and perhaps even kissed once or twice.
My two friends, Pia and Claudia, who were a year ahead of me in high school, were throwing a party one weekend, and since they also worked at Clock, they had invited Omar. The party was in full swing, and I wish I remember there being a romantic set-up, but the truth is, I found myself in what I think was Pia's bedroom, with Omar.
Before I knew it, his pants were off, and we were going to have sex. It was weird. I don't think I was super into it. Meaning, I was a little bit taken aback by the whole "we're in someone else's bed and there's a party happening in the other room" element. I guess it's embarrassing that I decided to do it anyways, that I was a 15-year-old girl more concerned with upsetting Omar, then taking care of myself and my honor, but so it goes. Sigh.
People who know me, know that I have a slightly overactive obsession with safe sex. Not only have I been known to scare the crap out of friends, by lecturing them incessantly about the various diseases one can pick up even without intercourse, but I've also been known to buy my more promiscuous and careless friends condoms, to ensure their health and safety.
Given all of that, it's surprising that I don't remember Omar having any protection whatsoever, even if this was before AIDS. Safe sex was being discussed in schools and all around us, but perhaps this was another one of those "teen Marika not wanting to rock the Omar boat" moments, where I put myself second, and a teenage boy's libido first.
To get to the awkward part, he tried to "get it in," but couldn't. A combination of his size and my being a virgin. It really hurt, so after a couple of tries, he stopped, quite frustrated. Whatever moment of excitement and bonding there had been, it was over now, and Omar quickly got dressed and re-joined the party. I stayed back to make the bed, and to my horror discovered I had bled a little bit on Pia's bedding. I pulled her and Claudia aside and apologized, and they were quite gracious about the whole thing.
Cut to a few months later, I had turned 16 and went to Gothenburg to attend a party and visit friends. It was February of 1987, and the party was hosted by my old boyfriend Joachim Rosenberg. It might seem weird that I had an old boyfriend already at 16, but Joachim and I had started our romance in 1978 at summer camp, and it had carried on for a few years.
I had fallen for him because, at 7 and-a-half years old, he was the most obnoxious boy at summer camp. He dressed in Hang Ten pastel polos and shorts, and, perhaps most importantly, he came from Gothenburg, which seemed exotic to 7-year-old Marika, living in Stockholm.
He once sent me 23 post cards, each with just one word. I had to put them in order to read the message. He was 13 at the time and my parents thought the gesture was flashy, but I thought it inventive and romantic. We were girlfriend/boyfriend during the summers at camp, and wrote each other sweet letters and cards the rest of the year. In 1983, I was Joachim's date for his Bar Mitzvah, and wore a festive grey number, with a fluffy ribboned collar.
But back to 1987. I can't remember what the party was for, but it was an official sit-down dinner followed by dancing, and having been seated next to him at his Bar Mitzvah, I was upset to find some other girl seated next to him at this party, while I was seated with his best friend. In case you are wondering, yes, a lot of thought and planning goes into seating arrangements in Sweden, not just for weddings, but pretty much every party you attend whether you are 12 or 17.
A slightly older Joachim, just as obnoxious...
I felt slighted because although Joachim and I weren't officially seeing each other at this point, I had come to Gothenburg for this party, and was his longtime, old time girlfriend. Therefore, etiquette should have prevailed, and I should have been given the place of honor, next to the host. We spent some time arguing about it, and after much groveling, I forgave him and things were sweet and happy.
We went back to his parents' house where I had spent the night many times over the past few years, but there was something different about this night. We were both of that age. Joachim had already had sex but wasn't weird or boastful about it, so there was no planning or scheming or sleaziness.
We were downstairs on his parents' leather couch talking, listening to music, and making out, and at some point, things progressed quite sweetly and naturally. Everything went smoothly and when it actually happened, I was surprised, because I was expecting it to hurt, but it didn't at all. In fact, it felt really good. This is going to sound so cliche, but he was considerate, sweet and loving, and made the whole transition into "womanhood" a truly great experience.
Perhaps Omar had done the "prep-work" or perhaps this just went well because I really loved Joachim. He was my first love, before I really understood what love was, and I don't think you can ask for more, for your first time.
This was wonderful! Thank you for sharing it all!
Posted by: Francesca | 07/21/2011 at 11:03 PM