Von

Either they didn’t think I could see them making out in the backseat—or they just didn’t care.

 

Regardless of their motivations, they went at it pretty hard.

And I wasn’t gon’ stop ’em.

 

It was 2 AM. I’d just picked up my 18-year-old cousin and his date from the last of their prom night activities. My aunt enlisted me to be their chauffeur for the evening—and my final assignment was to take them both home.

I witnessed their debauchery through my rearview mirror.

As the lone adult present, it was my duty to supervise the kiddies and make sure stuff like this didn’t transpire.

However, I couldn’t bring myself to intervene.

Why shouldn’t they have a little fun? Heaven forbid a guy make out with his date on prom night (hell, I had my first kiss at 13).

 

But it got me to thinking—what if they’ve done more than just kiss?
I couldn’t wrap my brain around such a horrifying thought.
Then again, it ain’t like we were angels back then either.

I lost my virginity at the tender age of 17—long after most of my peers.

Throughout my high school years I had to listen to my buddies and football teammates brag about how much “action” they were getting.

It sucked.

Being a virgin, I didn’t have anything to add to sex-related discussions with the fellas. When asked about my experiences—I could only lie.

 

Before judging me for such an unspeakable act of lameness, understand that manhood was defined by how many women one had. So-called pimps and playas were applauded—while virgins were clowned relentlessly.

Therefore, it was of critical importance not to divulge my virgin status.

So I fibbed—making up fake stories of imaginary sexual conquests with make-believe girls.

But in the summer of ’94 I finally got an opportunity to end my years of frustration.

 

I got a call from a classmate one morning.

The same one who’d attempted to get at me for the longest—and for some unknown reason, I’d always declined her advances (maybe I wasn’t over my high-school sweetheart who’d broken my heart). But not this time.

I invited her over between the 2-hour window that my mom left for work and when I had to leave for football practice.

She caught the bus over. I greeted her at the door. Soon we were spooning, fully clothed, on my bed (with the superhero-themed mattress) watching cheesy morning talk shows.

Despite my nervousness, I knew I had to seize this opportunity.

We made out and engaged in what some call “heavy petting.” Soon I relieved her of her clothes—a major accomplishment for a virgin.

 

Holy shit!

I actually had a naked girl in my room! And I was naked too.

I just had one minor problem: I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING!

 

Which was unfortunate—seeing as how I’d lied to ol’ girl about my sexual prowess. In a state of panic, I figured that if I emulated what I saw in the pornos, I’d be cool.

Unfortunately, I failed.

 

After realizing I wasn’t gonna be able to get the job done, she turned me on my back and said she’d handle the rest.

 

Ten minutes later it was over.

 

In a post-orgasmic state, I embraced the fantastic truth: I was no longer a virgin.

 

“Mission accomplished.”
—Our 43rd president

 

Coach yelled at me for being a step slower than usual at football practice that afternoon. But I could only revel in the fact that I finally had a real story to tell the guys.

 

So one can imagine that seeing my cousin and his girlfriend making out in the backseat of the car brought a ton of memories flooding back for me.

Whenever his moment of truth arises, hopefully it won’t be as awkward as mine was.