As with many virginity stories, this one begins with a drink (I lied, many drinks.) I was at a concert in town, High Street to be exact, with my girlfriend at the time as well as some mates. Now let me tell you about this girl, she was essentially the town bicycle. Everyone who hadn’t fucked her knew someone who had, and for some ungodly reason I had gotten her to commit to me. After copious amounts of the delectable golden nectar known only as ‘Beer’, I’m quite gloriously sloshed when she pipes up with this gem of a hint: “Want to go for a walk?”
Being the virgin I was at the time, while in full understanding of her reputation as such an upstanding (or spread-eagled) citizen, I could barely contain my excitement. We wandered up to Albert Park and amidst the stale stench of rape and homeless folk we stumbled together until another ‘subtle’ hint comes from her whorish mouth: “Hey, lets go and see what’s under this tree.”
The tree in question was essentially a large umbrella, with a nigh impenetrable canopy reaching all the way to the ground. Excellent, I thought, I can make my move. As soon as we’re out of sight, she grabs me and attempts a tonsillectomy, armed only with her tongue.
As we lie down, stripping ourselves of those oppressive garments known only as ‘pants’ it dawns on me, this is it. Say goodbye to Nick the Child, it was time for Nick the Man to make his glorious debut! I couldn’t have been more excited.
Sadly, that was the case, it was over within a few simple minutes. Being the innocent youngling I was at the time, both my stroke and stamina were rather poor, I even think she took pity. Maybe it was the suppressed laughter that gave it away.
Having finished, I re-adorned myself with clothes, pulling that move that every guy knows to hide my still pretty significantly swollen wang, the waistband flip-up. For the uninformed (or unequipped) this move requires two things: A boner and pants. One simply pulls his equipment upwards so that the waistband of your boxers pins your manhood to your lower stomach, effectively hiding the potential embarrassment that is an erection. I’ve been doing this since I was 11. Use it, love it.
My first real action as an initiated man was to vomit, all over the fucking place. Many people would say it was a reaction to my nerves at the time, or the vast amounts of alcohol coursing through my veins. I choose to believe that my body was telling me something about this girl. Turns out it was right.
One quick drunken stumble later, we meet up with my friends again outside the gig. They, knowing this girl’s reputation, had hilarious grins on their faces as we approached them. Slumping down next to a fellow known only as Cam, the following conversation took place:
Cam: “High five?”
Me: “High five.”
