"All the female virgins in the room will just have to rent out Jared, then," Maggie quipped.
"Over my dead body!" I retorted.
"But you get the male ones, Amanda," Maggie continued.
"Oh. Well. Hmmmm," I joked. Maggie cracked up. Jared just gave me a glare. He couldn’t hold it though, I saw the grin trying to break through.
"Maggie, are you shooting for a career as a Madame?" Ms. T joked, earning hoots from the rest of the class, and making Maggie blush, a rare event indeed.
"I have a question," Dave Shiell, one of Jared’s best friends, said. "Umm, what does a guy do to make it not hurt?"
"Damn good question, David," Ms. T said. "Do you have any advice, Jared?"
"Hmmm." He thought for a minute. "I think I got lucky in that regard, to be honest. But, let’s see. Lots of foreplay. Go slow. If she tells you to stop or slow down, do it. Lube helps."
"Going slow ain’t easy," Ed Bauer piped up. "Sometimes you shoot off before you’re even in, which really isn’t much fun for either of you."
Jared got a silly little grin, and told Ed, "Well-and this wasn’t my idea so I can’t take credit for it-but I found out that if she gives you a blowjob first, it makes that part of it a whole hell of a lot easier."
I laughed, as did the whole class, and Maggie piped up, "Amanda, you been reading my diary again?"
"Anyhow," Jared said, "remember, though, I did get lucky. I still thought I’d hurt her. I’m still kind of stunned that I didn’t."
"Well, I was ready, ready, ready," I admitted. "Jared was right with what he said the other day, I have been sitting in a puddle for a week. Lots of foreplay? I’d been having foreplay for three days before this happened. Girls, if you want to guarantee yourself a good first time-go see Mr. Tilling there about signing up for The Program." Everybody laughed. "I’m serious," I interrupted. "Look, I never considered myself sexual. If my hormones ever acted up, I made them go away. If I thought about boys, it was in that stupid Prince-Charming-on-the-white-horse-in-the-big-castle kind of way. I was not in touch with my body, not even a little bit. Now look at me. If you’re scared of sex, if you’re scared of your body, do this. Do The Program. I’m serious." I got a little grin. "And hope Mr. Tilling pairs you up with a sympathetic and very cool buddy."
"Amanda," Ms. T asked, "I know this takes conjecture on your part, but, if Jared hadn’t been around, and you were in The Program, do you think you still would’ve had sex?"
"Yes," I said definitely. "No doubt in my mind. In fact, I told Jared that-that there was no way I was getting out of this experience with my virginity intact. Just wasn’t going to happen. I’m too horny. So, yeah, if Jared hadn’t been there, there would’ve been somebody else." My voice dropped a little. "Wouldn’t have been nearly as special, though."
"No doubt," Ms. T agreed.
"I have a question," Maggie asked. She looked…different. She seemed to be swallowing rapidly. "What if you’ve, er, been around the block a few times…and you’ve never felt… that?" Oh damn. I actually felt bad for her at that moment.
"You keep trying," Ms. T said. "Change your approach. Don’t have sex so quickly-or, maybe, have it quicker if you’ve been waiting. Look for a different pool of people."
"Try switch-hitting," Lisa Sherrick, the lesbian, piped up, to general amusement.
"Yes, that’s a possibility," Ms. T grinned. "Hey, if sex with someone of the same gender attracts you at all, go for it. You won’t know until you try. I’ll admit it to you all-I do prefer men, but I have had sex with a woman, and it was different but very fun." Wow! I can’t believe she told us that. Anyhow, she went on, "But, aside from that, what I meant by different pool of people-and since I’m answering Maggie’s question, I’ll talk from a girl’s point of view-is try a different type of guy. If you’ve been going through all the hunky muscular football players, and they’re not doing it for you, try the trumpet player in the school band."
"I’ll go along with that," piped up Jared’s friend Dave-who was the trumpet player in the school band.
"There you go," Ms. T laughed. "Anyhow, you get my point. Try something new. Whether it’s timing, or somebody you wouldn’t normally think about. Experiment, experiment, experiment. You’re all young. You should all be experimenting."
"Experimenting’s all well and good," Jared piped up, "but in my case, what would be the point?"
"Well, you two might be the exception that proves the rule," Ms. T pointed out. "If what you’re telling us is true-and I believe them, guys, you can’t fake something like that, even when just talking about it-anyway. You two might be the rare case that find each other in high school, ride off into the sunset, have four little Jared and Amandas, and end up with the greatest sex life in the history of Western civilization." Everybody cracked up at that, Jared and I most of all-but, boy, that sounded nice! "Anyhow, that might happen. I wouldn’t bet against it," Ms. T continued. "However, to answer your question, the reason you’d experiment at age 16 even if you think you’ve found your soulmate is to be sure. Now, maybe you two don’t need that. That’s fine. Only you and Amanda can answer that. You’re telling us a fantastic story, but only the two of you were in the room. This is something you have to figure out. But, anyway, that’s why you’d experiment, to be sure. Also, for variety, but, if you’re in a couple, that has to be agreed on by both of you or it causes problems."
"How do you know if you’re sure?" Maggie asked.
"That’s a tough one. Let me tell you a little story. I hope this doesn’t discourage Jared and Amanda, because I don’t mean to, but this is my little story. I had a boyfriend in college, and I thought he was the one. Rockets fired, the earth moved, all that good stuff. But it ended, and I was not the one that ended it, and I thought I’d never have anything like that again." She smiled at us. "Until, about five years ago, I met my husband. And I found out that what I had with the guy in college was a very pale imitation."
"Having been through both those situations," I asked her, "do you know what the difference is?"
"Oh, yeah, I know a lot of it," she said. "My husband loves me. The guy in college didn’t. I loved him, or thought I did, but he didn’t love me. That’s the difference. And I do love my husband, and there’s no mistake about that. You have to trust your heart. That’s the key. My heart knew the guy in college was a no-good fink, but my hormones didn’t listen. Just as my heart knows my husband is gold. And the hormones are in full agreement this time."
That’s when the class ended.
I was still thinking about this later in the day. The day was over, we were getting prepared to go, and Mr. Riley, our history teacher, asked Jared to stay fifteen minutes or so to discuss an extra-credit project he was doing.
"Oh, pooh," I said. "I was hoping for a little canoodling in the woods," I said.
"I know," he commiserated. "Hey, maybe you’ll see me later. Maybe I’ll stop by cheerleading. Watch you shake your pom-poms."
"You’d do that?"
"Sure. It’ll be fun. I’ll see you later, OK?"
"OK," I said, and threw a kiss at him, and left the room.
I’m still not quite sure what happened next.
Well, I do know-but that doesn’t excuse it. It was what Ms. T had said, about being sure and trusting your heart. I didn’t trust my heart. I’d never had to, and I’d never developed the ability to. I knew what my heart was telling me-but I didn’t trust it. And I heard, in my head, what Ms. T said about experimenting and being sure. I wasn’t sure, because I couldn’t trust my heart. And it was so new that I was confused.