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Several years ago, when I was in my mid-thirties, I attended a writer's conference at a small southwestern university. One of the students — not in my class — began to spend time with me. She had just graduated college and was exceedingly lovely, with very long blonde hair that went all the way to her waist. When we would go for walks in the woods near the university all we did was make out, but on the last night of the conference I sneaked her into my room (we didn't want people gossiping). I was in the midst of a drinking relapse — I'm not supposed to imbibe — and was quite intoxicated. We got naked and eventually I put on a condom and

tried to get it in her but couldn't. She was very tight and I was very tight (drunk, that is). I had gone down on her, so she was wet enough, but she was too tight, and with all the booze in my system, my erection started to wilt when it wasn't given easy access. Then, somehow, I got my semi-hard penis in there, and I think my penis was so relieved that it let down its guard, spazzed out and prematurely ejaculated.
    This was terribly embarrassing, so I went down on her again for some time to compensate for my lousy love
making and eventually we both fell asleep. She left my room in the wee hours of the morning and when I woke up a
Somewhat disturbed, I washed off the dried blood.
little while later and went to the bathroom, I saw that my face was a mask of blood. At first I thought something had happened to me, that I had put my face through a window in my drunkenness, but then I realized that the girl had started her period and when I went down on her the second time my face had gotten covered. I recalled that she had been very wet, but I had thought it was just her natural effusion. Also, the room had been very dark so I hadn't perceived the blood, and in my intoxicated state I hadn't discerned the taste of it. Somewhat disturbed, I washed off the dried blood. What a strange night it had been. I figured she hadn't said anything when she left, probably out of embarrassment.
     Anyway, the conference broke up later that morning and the girl and I parted sweetly. Naturally, I didn't say anything about her having her period all over my face, and, anyway, I was more embarrassed and upset about my bad love making skills than about her menstruating on me.
    About a month later she moved to New York, contacted me and we ended up in bed. We were naked and just getting into things when she said, "I have something to tell you." I figured she was going to confess to me about having her period that night and that she was sorry she had bled all over me, and so she took a deep breath and then said,
"When we had sex a month ago . . . well, I was a virgin. That was my first time. I'm sorry I didn't say anything then."
     I was flabbergasted, to say the least. I couldn't believe that her first time had been with a drunken, prematurely ejaculating idiot. I was so embarrassed. Also, she was the first virgin I had ever been with and I hadn't even known it! No wonder she had been so hard to penetrate, and my face, I realized, had been painted with the blood of her broken hymen!
    "Why me?" I asked.
    "Because you're old, and I figured you would know what to do, and for some reason I got it in my head that I should lose my virginity with someone that I can't have a relationship with."
    "Why can't you have a relationship with me?" I asked.
    "You're too old for me," she said. "But we can have sex."
    That seemed fair enough, and, boy, did I put in a Herculean effort that night to make up for what had transpired a month before, and I have to say, I really redeemed myself. She left late the next morning and about an hour after she was
gone the doorbell rang. I went to the front door and it was my ex, who had broken up with me two months
She located a very long blonde hair on my pillow. My ex, I should mention, had short black hair.
earlier and whom I had been pining for (hence the drinking relapse at the conference). But she had finally returned! She came up to my apartment and said, "I've been calling you all night and all morning."
    "My phone has been off," I said, which it had been since I was with the other girl. My ex bought this explanation and with hardly another word exchanged between us, she stripped off her clothes. I rallied to the cause and performed admirably. When it was over, we were lying there rather happily, but then she located a very long blonde hair on my pillow. My ex, I should mention, had short black hair.
    "What's this?" she said, quite accusingly.
    At the time, I had thinning blonde hair, which was styled in that classic configuration known as the comb-over. I took the hair from her and said, "It's mine," and I proceeded to drape the hair from my left ear to my right, fitting it in with the other comb-over strands, except the hair kept going — it went from my left ear all the way to my right hip!
    "That's why you didn't answer your phone," she shouted. "You had someone here last night! This is disgusting! I think I'm going to throw up!"
    She then leaped out of my bed, got dressed faster that I've ever seen a woman dress and ran out of the apartment and, ultimately, out of my life, and I was heartbroken. I did try racing after her in my slippers that day, but it was futile, as were my subsequent phone calls and pleas.
    As a slight compensation, the lovely girl who generously gave me her virginity slept me with me one more time but then found a boyfriend her age and that was that.
    (So all the sex in this story was quite good, except that first bloody night, but, ultimately, the results of it all, were mostly quite bad.)  

To buy I Love You More Than You Know, click here.

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Jonathan Ames is the author of six books, including Wake Up, Sir! and What's Not to Love? He is the winner of a Guggenheim Fellowship and the loser of an amateur boxing match in which he fought as The Herring Wonder. To see more of his work, visit

©2006 Jonathan Ames and

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