The First Time

He knew that tonight would be the night.  He had been anticipating this for nearly as long as he could remember.  Most of his friends had already done it some time before.  Every time they all got together, he would listen to them talking about it, trying to hide his jealousy.  It seemed to be all they would talk about anymore.  Occasionally, one of his friends would realize that he might be feeling left out, and look at him with pity before attempting to stop the stories half of the way through.  That would make him more upset than if they just continued talking about what he had not yet experienced.

But tonight would be different.

He took a second shower.  He carefully, groomed, trimming hairs he had never bothered with before.  He hardly ever wore cologne, but made sure to put some on; just as he read in his Playboy, only enough to smell when someone gets in close.  He put on a nice button-down shirt and khakis, in favor of his usual cargo shorts and t-shirt.  He threw his dirty tennis shoes into the corner and brought out his brand-new loafers.

As excited as he was, he was about ten times as nervous.  He could feel his heart racing and his palms beginning to clam up.  He applied a little cornstarch in order to hide any evidence of fear.  He nervously checked his wallet, over and over again to make sure it was in there.  He knew there was no way he could go through with it if it wasn’t; he had heard too many stories of the consequences.

He headed out into the dark night.  It was a late night on a Wednesday, so the roads were pretty empty.  He started to think.  “What if something goes wrong?  What will I tell my friends?”  He became acutely aware of the sweat beginning to form on his brow.  At a red light, he reached into the glove box to pull out a cloth and dabbed the beads away.  He would not chicken out.  He was going to go through with it.  The light turned, and in a few moments he realized he was there.

He let himself in.  It was quiet.  He glanced around the room a bit before he saw her.  She was standing, and caught his eyes.  He smiled at her, and she smiled at him.  There was no turning back now.  He summoned all of his courage and approached her.  And just as he opened his mouth to speak, she stopped him and said…

“I’m going to need to see some ID.”


Author: Josh Wrenn

Cancer survivor, wanna-be artist, musician, author, and all around good guy.

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