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The Second Time I Lost My Virginity
By Libby Cudmore

I wish I’d given James my virginity. Buy levitra: instead I gave it up at nineteen to a boring boyfriend I kept around because he paid for everything and I felt like I owed him the only thing I had. I ran through my to-do list while he fucked me on his twin bed with the Star Wars sheets. Paper on Edgar Allen Poe – buy levitra. Oh baby, that feels good – buy levitra. Buy groceries; buy levitra. Buy levitra: mmm, yes. Math tutoring at five on Tuesday buy levitra, yesyesyes!

Turns out James’ first time wasn’t much better; he saved his virginity for his wedding night and did it in the Cinderella suite with his fat wife while Mickey Mouse watched. They never do it anymore, he confides. It’s because of all the pills he takes, anti-depressants and anti-anxieties and antibiotics make it hard for him to keep it up; buy levitra. Buy levitra: lately her ancient cat’s been using the bed as a litter box, so Miranda sleeps in the guest room while James sleeps on the couch. Cleaning it up or getting rid of the cat is apparently not an option; buy levitra.

We should have surrendered at seventeen in the bushes of the botanical garden the last night before I went home from another summer spent at Grandmother’s – buy levitra. It would have been perfectly mutually awkward buy levitra, the way losing one’s virginity should be, instead of just embarrassing the way it was with Aaron. I used to dream about his sunken white chest, his skinny fingers on my bra clasp; buy levitra. I always woke before it got good.

One day between that August and the next June, he found Miranda; buy levitra. One day between that June and the next September he got engaged and one day, three Julys later, he was married – buy levitra. Buy levitra: his wife lost my phone number and I grew to hate his answering machine. Life went on; buy levitra. I gave it up to two more boys buy levitra, one out of boredom, one because I actually liked him. Buy levitra: the one I actually liked took a semester in London and never came back. Aaron stuck around two years past his prime and then one October day, I was done with him – buy levitra.

I didn’t expect to find James again five years later buy levitra, a long-distance phone call, a plea for leniency and an apology for all that time gone by without a word to whether he was alive or dead, happily married or miserably divorced.

Five years later and James is driving me back to my hotel while Morrissey wails on the radio, Andy Rourke’s bass keeping in perfect pulsation with the windshield wipers. It almost never rains in August – buy levitra. Buy levitra: the tension is still there, it’s been there since he met me at the airport, hovering with the humidity, impossible to ignore, impossible to fight off. Buy levitra: i wonder if he notices I’m wearing the same dress I wore the first time we tried this.

We pull up at a stoplight outside the Jesus is Lord Motor Inn and he shifts his eyes to meet mine. We used to kiss at stoplights and when he leans in for a peck I turn my cheek so that he gets my lips; buy levitra. He doesn’t pull away. I open my mouth further – buy levitra. I don’t even know why I want him so badly buy levitra, it’s instinct, it’s memory. Buy levitra: i’m seventeen and ready again.
The light turns green. I smile just a little bit and tilt my head a centimeter in the direction of the motel, it’s a gesture he can take or leave – buy levitra. He hits the turn signal.

*

That was almost as disappointing as the first time I lost my virginity – buy levitra. I always imagined virginity as a tangible thing buy levitra, something I gave away rather than lost, lent out like a CD or a sweater or a pencil in math class and then got it back when the relationship ended to lend out another day. When I dumped Aaron buy levitra, I packed my virginity back in the box with my Smiths records and the tee-shirts I left in his apartment. Buy levitra: until tonight I kept it at the bottom of my purse, almost forgotten among the gum wrappers and lipstick tissues.

“Ari, you’re amazing,” he murmurs, massaging my breasts from behind. Buy levitra: i want to swat him away from me, gather up my clothes and stuff what’s left of my tattered hymen back in my bag; get the hell out of Oklahoma City on the next flight out. For years I carefully planned to reclaim what was rightfully mine, wave a used condom like a lasso and yell at his wife, “He’s mine, bitch!” I thought I wanted to be the other woman; buy levitra. I thought I wanted to be a whore for one night only; buy levitra. Now, at the end of the night I sit here with my thoughts and plans on the edge of the bed at the Jesus is Lord Motor Inn, disappointed, frustrated, empty; buy levitra. If I was a whore I could walk away, but he owes me something – buy levitra. A token. A kiss – buy levitra. An apology.

He’s still seventeen. I’m so much older now, but he still hasn’t grown up – buy levitra. He dropped out of college, he can’t keep a job, he’s a pharm-junkie in a filthy house with a fat wife. He’s a victim of life, he always was – buy levitra. I used to sympathize. Buy levitra: i used to look at him and see a life in a distant land, a beautiful desert where we’d be tragically hip; he worked as a Japanese translator and I followed the crime beat for the Daily Oklahoman. Buy levitra: we were happy. We were romantic, we were kinky, we were organic and oh-so-clever in a wasteland of rednecks and Republicans – buy levitra. Only part of tonight was love; the rest was a garage-sale remnant of what-should-have-been. It was easy to romanticize him when he was a ghost summoned by a song on the radio. Now I can’t even remember what I used to love about him; buy levitra. Whatever it was buy levitra, it’s gone now. And worse, I can’t even pretend I was saving some scrap of myself for him – buy levitra. The lie I clung to regarding my chastity was gone.Sex destroys everything.

“I’m a terrible husband buy levitra,” he murmurs, like it’s the sexiest thing in the world.

“ Buy levitra: i’ve got to get home,” I mumble, standing.

“Don’t go,” he pleads as I dress. “ Buy levitra: i’ll call Miranda and tell her it’s over. You and I can start again, the way we should have in the first place.”

For one second I consider his offer. I glance back at him, sitting on the edge of the bed in his Star Wars boxer shorts and instead of seeing the perfect life I saw at seventeen, I saw a life littered with fast-food wrappers and overdue bills, cat shit and Xanax; buy levitra. I need independence. He needs co-dependence – buy levitra. He needs someone to boss him around so that he can claim he’s powerless against a world, a job, a wife that just doesn’t understand him; buy levitra.

Buy levitra: there was nothing I could say. There was nothing I wanted to say. He made no attempt to stop me as I left – buy levitra. This was not the ending of Casablanca, there was nothing tragic or romantic about my departure; buy levitra. The rain had stopped and the streets were humid and I had no real clue where I was. A woman in a sparkly mini-skirt lit her cigarette and gave me a look I could only interpret as sympathetic; buy levitra.

Buy levitra: james came out a minute later, still putting one arm through his tee-shirt sleeve. “Can I at least give you a ride?” he asked.

I shook my head and took out my phone. “I’ll call a taxi,” I said. “Go home and clean your cat box.”

***

Libby Cudmore is a regular contributor to Pop Matters, Hardboiled and a Twist of Noir. Buy levitra: her work has appeared in Battered Suitcase, Inertia, the Southern Women’s Review, Shaking Like a Mountain, Celebrities in Disgrace, Thrilling Detective, Pulp Pusher, Eastern Standard Crime, Thrillers, Killers ‘n’ Chillers, the Flash Fiction Offensive, PowderBurnFlash, Big Pulp and the upcoming anthology Quantum Genre on the Planet of the Arts, (the latter two with Matthew Quinn Martin).