When I look back at my generation, I have some very peculiar sex-related memories (as you may have gathered, gentle reader[s]!). Delighted as I may be to share some of them with you, there's one thing I can't. I'm all for talking about the first time I had sex... but I can't tell you who, among my peers, was the first of us to have sex.
I can't tell you, because I don't know. My first inclination, just off the bat, might be to say it was Esque... but then there's one more person. And he may well be our candidate.
We were 14, or thereabouts. I had become, for want of a better word, friends with a number of schoolmates of an old friend of mine who had moved halfway across the borough. We had stayed friends, and with very few other people to talk to online, he had introduced me (virtually) to a few of them. Every day for a couple of years, I'd be in regular online contact with boys my age from North London's Jewish community. I never really met any of them until years later.
Although my mother tells me that most girls of that age are desperate for a boyfriend and will have basically anyone who asks (which may explain why Lightsinthesky was so successful), I didn't see it. There was one of these guys, however - one who I quite liked but was somewhat unscrupulous, and incredibly fixated on making money - who managed to get himself a girlfriend by the age of 13, and a few months later, had managed to lose his flashing V.
Or so he said.
Do I trust people too much? Probably. I've got too much faith in humanity sometimes. I shouldn't have trusted this guy, either - his friends told me as much, and besides, the first time he contacted me, he had convinced me that his name was "John McDonald" and was so close to my old friend that he shared the same e-mail address (he had, in fact, hacked into his AOL). It was "John" that later told me he had a girlfriend named Roxanne (put on the red light).
Trusting though I may be, I was a little suspicious. Mind you, having a girlfriend wasn't something I, or anyone else my age in my peer group, had managed to do, so I was suitably impressed. The existence of Roxanne (put on the red light) was, in fact, corroborated by my old friend ("she looks a bit like a triangle..."), and I had no reason not to believe his bragging... even though I was a little sickened by exactly how explicit his bragging was.
"BJ's my personal favourite," he said once, matter-of-factly.
In the succeeding months, I walked the line between curiosity, jealousy, and disgust. Running the gauntlet between remaining friendly and dodging his constant get-rick-quick schemes and low-level homophobia was a trial, but I didn't want to seem unapproachable. I was certainly one more person to brag to, but when he finally told me that he was going to spend an evening alone with Roxanne (put on the red light) and that they were both "up 4 it", then my confidence in him started to slip.
Surely not? At the age of 14, or thereabouts? I'd heard of such things, but only in hushed tones and what constituted a dire warning: I'd never assumed it would happen to one of us... and certainly not him!
As it turned out, I wasn't the only one "John" told. Lots of people knew, including my old friend and practically all the other people I'd added on ICQ. In less than a week, the entire community was aware that "John" and Roxanne (put on the red light) were on the verge of having sex. The fact that "John" went mysteriously silent in the next couple of days was somewhat suspicious, but me being me, I just figured that he was busy. I didn't need to know any more, either... I'm not sure my stomach could have taken it.
A week later...
"How was it?" I asked him, nonchalantly (I hope).
"Hot," he replied, "wet, and juicy."
I didn't enquire any further, since it sounded more like he was describing a warm smoothie than an act of love. They broke up a couple of weeks down the line, seemingly just because he "went off her", although he didn't seem very keen on elaborating upon the subject. I was very much of the opinion that someone you have had sex with should a mate for life, so I struggled with my feelings for a while. Eventually, and probably wisely on my part, I let it go. His business, really, even if he seemed happy to tell everyone everything.
So if "John" is to be believed, he was, in fact, The First One. Whether or not I still believe him is a matter of debate. I kind of want to, but I also don't trust him.
One thing still stands as self-evident, though. It may have been his personal favourite, but it's never been mine... although, right now, I would really like a blowjob.