Where it happened: home
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
My first time was less than it should have been, because it wasn’t with the one it should have been with. I had a big chip on my shoulder when I was in college. I came home on a break with the certainty that I knew more than the yokels at home, and was on the cutting edge of radical thought and liberal ideas. My high school sweet heart, Jessi, met me at the airport and drove me home. Before going away to school, I had tried to talk her into sex, but being a devout Christian, she said it would have to wait until we were married. Now I just grabbed a handful of her boob, and squeezed it like it was an orange I was trying to juice. She winced in discomfort and asked me to “respect her” and not feel of her like she was a thing rather than a person. Instead I just laughed at her. When I got home, I started correcting the pitiful grammar of those poor ignorant fools, and told them that their fondest beliefs were just exercises in self deception. I ridiculed their faith and mocked them for their naive and backwards ways. I was a big man on campus, and these bumpkins needed to realize just whom they were dealing with. Each time I laughed a family member or old friend down, Jessi just looked at me sadly. I was sure she must have felt foolish and inadequate in my presence, but she would learn, she would learn.
The ultimate show of my mental prowress and acedemic advancement was when Jessi and I went with my dad to visit an elderly friend of the family. He was a pathetic old codger who still believed all the Sunday school stories he heard a million years ago when he was a child. He told me what an example my father was, and how he was such a devout and godly man. I snorted in disgust. I cut that ludicrous old fool down to size in a matter of moments. As I was tearing him and his antiquated beliefs apart, Jessi interrupted and asked if she could speak with me in private. I told her that when I was done serving that old dotard’s ass up to him on a platter, I could make time for her. I pressed on mercilessly, knowing that if reason is to triumph over superstition, old ways had to be revealed as what they were; flawed and illogical. She walked away back toward town. I nearly excused myself to see what was bothering her, but figured that I could get her up to speed on what I was talking about later. She must have been embarrassed that she couldn’t keep up the lofty concepts I was expounding on.
Finally I had run out of steam. I was savoring a sweet victory over the old coot when my dad said that we needed to be going. On the way home, he quietly asked if I had said everything I wanted to. I told him that I indeed felt I had given an impressive accounting of myself, and yes, my piece had been said and said well. He quietly told me that when Jessi was five, she had needed a kidney transplant to save her life. The old fool, who incidentally was her grandfather, had given her one of his. She probably wasn’t terribly impressed with my academic acumen at that moment. Most likely she was ashamed to admit that she even knew me.
I thought for a minute before challenging my dad’s version of things. If Jessi had been so sick, why had she never told me? Why didn’t I know that the old fart was her grandfather? Why…
That was when my dad pulled the car to the side of the road and looked me straight in the eye. I will never forget what he said. He told me that since hitting junior high, I had been so busy listening to my own ego and my own bragging that I never really listened to Jessi at all. He and mom had tried to talk her out of waiting for me after college, because they felt she could do so much better than what I had become. He told me a lot of other things that I didn’t know about how “that old fool” had helped our family time and again, and it was by his intervention I was able to get into the school I was in. My own grades hadn’t been enough, but the former alumnus recommending me had gained me entrance.
I felt like such a piece of shit. When I got home, Jessi refused to even speak to me. I returned to college licking my wounds. I hadn’t shown them anything other than what a pompous self important ass I’d become.
Jessi got married to a guy who went on to bible college and seminary. They have been happily married for twenty years. I on the other hand refused to swallow my pride and say I was sorry. I slept with a nameless bimbo that I can’t even remember for my first time. My two marriages ended in divorce, as my second wife said, she couldn’t compete with my first love; myself.
I recently retired and moved back to my home town. All the players that I ran roughshod over are now gone, most to the grave. To my surprise, those who knew them told me how proud they were of me, and of my academic achievements. If there is a lesson here, its just be a little less self important. A taste of humble pie in my youth might have made the rest of my life a bit sweeter.
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