by Margot Wood
“Damn, you are really good at that. I thought it was a goner,” she says to me.
“Next time, don’t use so much batter, and spray the iron down beforehand.” We get out of the way and let the next guy in line have his turn. I turn to go back to my place in line but she stops me and says, “Hey, thanks for helping me. This is my first time making waffles.”
“What, are you serious?” I ask her, shocked that someone could live this long without having made waffles before.
“Yeah, I’m more of a pancake girl,” she says casually, like there’s no difference between pancakes and waffles. Fool.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. And here I thought we were going to become good friends.”
“Oh? No room in your life for a pro-pancake girl?” She asks.
“Sorry, I’m a registered waffle enthusiast. I cannot be associated with your kind.”
“Too bad,” she says, and I think this is the first time I have ever seen Rose smile in a way that isn’t the least bit cocky. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she says and starts eating off her plate as she walks toward the seating area.
Ten minutes later, Lucy and I have a chocolate chip waffle to share as well as roasted salmon on a bed of greens for her and a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal and one banana for me.1
“So what did you want to ask me?” I pour milk out of a carton and then start in on my cereal.
“How do you know if you’ve lost your virginity?” Lucy asks. I choke on my Lucky Charms and cough up some tiny marshmallows onto my shirt.
“I’m sorry, what now?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. She nervously folds and unfolds her hands on the table.
“Hypothetically speaking, how do you know if you’ve lost your virginity?”
“What, like you misplaced it or something?”
“No, I mean, like—” Lucy pauses, searching for a way to phrase her next question. “How do you know when you’ve had all-the-way sex?”
“Is there such a thing as half-the-way sex?”
“Yes!” She chirps loud enough for the people at the table next to overhear and they give us looks. Lucy lowers her voice. “What I mean is, does it count as sex if it’s only the tip that goes in?”
Well, this is officially shaping up to be one of the weirdest conversations I’ve had at college thus far. But I’m not gonna lie, my interest is piqued. I sit up and lean in.
“So, in this hypothetical scenario, there is peener and cooter penetration, but the hymen isn’t broken?”
She thinks about my question for a minute, considers her response. “Yes, exactly.”
I set my cereal aside even though I still have a quarter left. That is how intrigued I am by this convo—I am no longer hungry for cereal. I sit up straight and fold my hands together on the table. “How long was the peep inside the hoohah?”
Lucy shoots me a mildly annoyed look. “Can’t you just say penis and vagina?”
“I can, but I will not,” I say in my most professional voice. “I am a proper lady and those clinical terms are so vulgar. So, tell me, how long was the wiener inside the tiddlywink?”
“I don’t know.” Lucy shrugs. “Like, a minute, maybe?”
I lean back into the seat and lower my imaginary therapist’s glasses to the bridge of my nose. “Now, did either party reach, you know, completion?”
“He did,” she says quickly and looks down at her hands.
“Interesting.” It’s funny how losing one’s virginity is considered to be a rite of passage, like some form of emotional and physical test one must pass in order to be considered a normal human person. But the question she’s asking me is one that has literally never crossed my mind before. How do you know when you’ve lost your virginity? I just have so many questions. I lean away from the table and my eyes travel toward the ceiling as I ponder all scenarios in which a virgin could have sex without losing their virginity. It takes me all of twenty seconds to form an opinion.
“Yes,” I finally say. “I do think it still counts as sex, all-the-way sex as you call it, even if it was just the tip. I don’t think penetration should be the only standard by which sex is defined.”
Lucy takes a sip from her mug. “Why not?”
“I think everyone can and should define what constitutes as sex and virginity on their own terms. For me, I would define sex as junk on junk. Therefore, even if it is just the tip of the wiener that enters the muffin shop, that’s still junk on junk. And as for virginity, I just think that term means you haven’t done something before. But that’s my own personal definition. Everyone should define what sex means for themselves.”
“I like that,” she says while nodding, letting my argument sink in. Satisfied with my explanation, I reach for my cereal and resume eating when Lucy says, “I guess by your definition then, I lost my virginity last night.”
The soggy cereal gets stuck in my throat and I have to momma-bird it back into the bowl.
“OOOOOOOH MMMMMMMMMY GOOOOOOOOOOOD.” I stretch the reaction out for extra effect because this is the kind of thing that deserves to have words and syllables elongated. When one friend tells another friend that they’ve just experienced a life-changing moment, it is that friend’s duty to turn it into a big fucking deal. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this sooner! Where did it happen? How did it happen? What did it feel like? Were you scared? Was he respectful? Did you come? Now, using this banana as your constant, please compare and contrast Kenton’s length and girth. TELL ME EVERYTHING! But first and most importantly, did you guys use a condom?”
“Did who use a condom?”
In my shock and awe I didn’t even notice Micah approach our booth. He sets down his food tray and signals me to scoot over and make room, which I do.
“Lucy used a condom,” I tell him, and then turn to Lucy and point at her with my spoon. “At least, she better have.”
“Of course we did!” Lucy squeaks and then gives me that I can’t believe you’re telling Micah my most personal, intimate details look and I get it. If Micah hears about Lucy’s first v-card swipe, she could be featured in tomorrow’s Third-Floor Report. Micah senses this, or just becomes aware of our silence since he sat down. He sets his fork aside and looks at us.
“What? I’m off duty right now.” I raise my right eyebrow and give him the same look my mother gives me when she catches me in a lie. Micah throws his hands in the air in a show of surrender. “My lips are sealed. Everything said at this booth will be completely confidential.”
“You promise?” Lucy asks him nervously.
Micah makes an X with his finger over his heart. “I swear it. Now, spill.”
Lucy looks around and lowers her voice, forcing Micah and me to lean in. “Kenton and I had sex for the first time.”
Micah salutes her with his fork. “It’s about damn time. Good for you!”
Lucy hides her face behind her hands and we wait patiently for her to work up the nerve and tell us the story. “It happened last night in his room—”
“OH MY GOD!” I interrupt and she gives me a look. “Sorry! Continue!”
“I went up to his room to study like we usually do,” Lucy continues. I am trying my best to not interrupt her, so I press my lips together and stare at her adoringly. “We took a break after an hour and then we started watching some art house film he had to watch for class, I don’t even know what it was. It was all in French with subtitles.”
“Hot,” Micah chimes in.
Lucy pauses and takes a sip of tea. “Anyways, we start kissing and it’s nice, and then we’re both undressed and under his covers and I’m on bottom and he’s on top—”
“Interesting,” Micah interrupts. “I always figured Kenton to be a bottom.”
Lucy fiddles with a napkin, tearing it into little bits. “Well, we were kissing and then, I guess, he just put it in? I mean, I definitely felt it go in a little, but it didn’t hurt or anything. It was just sort of, there, I guess.”
“Okay . . .
then what?” I coax her. She continues shredding her napkin and I slap my hand over hers, getting her to stop fidgeting and focus.2
“I guess he just sort of—came?” She finally looks up at Micah and me, as if either one of us has any explanation for her boyfriend’s shortcomings.
Micah sets his plate aside and folds his hands neatly on the table. “So let me get this straight, and I do mean straight,” he says calmly. “Kenton just gets it halfway in there and then comes immediately?”
Lucy nods.
“What did he say? What did you say?” I ask her.
Lucy throws her arms up in frustration. “We didn’t say anything! He just pulled out, rolled over, and cleaned up. We didn’t talk about it afterward either, we just finished the movie and then I left.” She looks at us, distraught.
I squeeze her hand. “How are you feeling about this?”
“I dunno, it’s just . . . not what I expected, I guess.”
I ask my next question carefully, really hoping it doesn’t offend her. “What did you think your first time would be like?”
She lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Honestly? I don’t know! But I guess I always thought it would be more—climactic?”
“That’s fair.” I nod. “I think we’d all like our first times to be more like how they’re shown in movies, but the reality is, the first time for everyone is just straight up awkward as fuck. At least you were with someone who cares about you.”
Micah nods as well. “The first time I did it was in the back of a car in the parking lot of a bowling alley. Super romantic.”
Lucy learns forward. “Do you think he was nervous or something? He didn’t seem nervous.”
“I mean, I’ve never swiped anyone’s v-card before so I can’t speak to that specific experience, but once I did take this one guy’s blow-job virginity.” Micah starts laughing as the memory of it comes back to him in vivid, awkward detail. “He was so nervous, he was practically shaking. It was kinda sweet, now that I think about it. But from start to finish it only took ten seconds. I think I set a new world record for fastest BJ ever. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
“We should compare notes sometime,” I say to him.
“Have you figured out how to stop the gag reflex? Because I cannot figure that one out.”
“Oh yeah! All you need to do is—” Lucy waves her hands in front of my face, bringing us back to the conversation.
Micah—in a surprising show of compassion—puts his hands on top of mine, which are now on top of Lucy’s, and gives her a sympathetic smile. “Lucy, darling, there’s no need to fret. Men have no self-control when they’re horny and nervous.”
“You see? This is why I think it’s better to have sex with people you don’t care about,” I say, suddenly very excited to stand on a soapbox. “The second you get to know someone, there is so much pressure and so many expectations to live up to. Everyone gets all nervous and then the sex ends up sucking!”
Micah scoffs. “That is so not true!”
“Hey! You just said so yourself, your first time was super awkward too,” I say, feeling pretty good about my argument.
“That’s because it was in the back of a car and neither of us knew what we were doing!” Micah laughs. “Everyone’s first time is awkward! But eventually we figured it out and the sex got really good. So don’t listen to Elliot, Lucy. You and Kenton just need to work at it and eventually it’ll be great.” Micah reaches for his coffee mug and raises it to Lucy. “Here’s to Lucy’s v-card!”
I start to feel myself gearing up to preach more about the virtues of free love, but then Lucy laughs as the tension finally eases out of her shoulders, and I remember that this moment isn’t about me. It’s about Lucy. So I swallow my pride and raise my banana and say, “And here’s to junk on junk and the sharing of bodily fluids!”
“Ew, gross. I’m not cheers-ing to that.” Lucy scrunches her face but cheers-es us anyways.
The next day, Sunday, something happens.
[dramatic pause]
But first, let me digress. Over the past six weeks, I have learned that college is nothing if not a grand experiment in learning how to tolerate people being all up in your shit. Every dorm room has a lock but no one really uses them here. As a result, I have grown to be comfortable with strangers occupying the space where I roost.
Anyway, I bring all this up because I need you to understand that Lucy and I haven’t locked our door since orientation week. We don’t really even knock anymore either, we just come and go as we please. If either one of us needs the room for sexy things, we text each other a chicken emoji beforehand.3 I have never received a text like that from Lucy because she and Kenton are usually in his single on the eighth floor. I am telling you all this because I want it to be clear that what happens next is totally not my fault.
So it’s Sunday afternoon and I just got out of one of those free screenings movie studios sometimes set up for Emerson students. As I walk back to my room, I’m reading Micah’s latest Third-Floor Report post on my phone and I don’t bother knocking because it’s Sunday and Lucy always goes home on Sundays.4 So without looking up from my phone, I waltz right into my room and happen upon Lucy and Kenton getting it on.
“OCCUPIED!!!!!!!!!” Lucy shrieks while Kenton frantically dives under her covers.
“Shit! Fuck! Oh god, sorry!” I slap my hands over my eyes and blindly reach for the door handle behind me but end up knocking over whatever is on top of Lucy’s dresser. Objects are falling, Lucy and Kenton are yelling, and I cannot get out of there fast enough.
It takes me seventy years, but I finally find the handle and back out of our room, ass-first. I slam the door shut and yell through it, “I am so sorry!!!”5
I wait for a reply but don’t get one. I check my phone to see how much juice I have left but it’s completely dead. I try Micah’s room first, but he isn’t there, just his off-page roommate you’ll never meet in this story, and neither he nor Micah has a charger that will work with my phone.
I try again, this time down to the other end of the hall toward Sasha’s room but she has a Filming in progress! (PS - Don’t forget to subscribe!) note taped to the door. I think for a second about trying the Brads but they’re in the common room livestreaming some extremely loud video game and there’s no way I’m interrupting that nonsense. I think about going back to the movie theater and napping in a back row, but then I pass by Rose on my way to the elevators. Since the last time we interacted was when I saved her waffle, I decide to risk it and see if Rose is willing to return the favor.
“Hey, on a scale of good to great, how is your mood right now?” I ask as I fall into step with her. Her outfit today is a pastel rainbow tracksuit that looks tie dyed by hand. Knowing her, it probably is.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
She stops walking. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“I swear it was nothing!” I throw my hands up. “I wanted to know your mood because I need to ask you a favor and sometimes you can be a lil’ scary. By the way, I’m really enjoying this vaporwave look you’ve got going on today.” That does the trick because she softens her tone.
“What’s the favor?”
“What kind of phone do you have?” She holds hers up and it’s the same as mine. “Can I borrow your charger and also possibly take a nap in your room? Mine is currently . . . occupied.” We get to Rose’s room and she unlocks the door because she’s smart and doesn’t keep her room unlocked like the fool narrating this story.
“Can’t you use the common room?” she asks as we hover just outside her room. “Or go to Micah or whoever else you hang around with?”
“The Brads are using the common room, Micah is out, and Sasha is filming a YouTube video.”
She sighs and checks her watch. “You’re welcome to borrow my charger, but you can’t sleep here. I’m headed to the library.”
“Cool, I’ll just join you then. That sounds more fun than nap
ping.”
“What? No, I wasn’t inviting you,” she says.
“I know.” I give her a charming smile. “I was inviting myself.”
Rose glances at her watch again and for a second I think she’s going to say no, but she sighs in defeat. “Fine, but I need to work so you have to be quiet.”
“Excellent! And don’t worry, I will be totally focused and quiet, I promise.”
This is my first time visiting the library and I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I am surprised to find it packed on a Sunday evening. There are so many students here, nearly every table and study room is full. Rose leads the way as we wind through the stacks until we find a row of small study rooms with glass doors. All of them are occupied, including the one Rose steps into. Monica is here. Ugh, I really don’t want to be the third wheel to my RA and her girlfriend, but I really need to charge my phone and well, I’ve made my bed. Now I must lie in it. I take a seat opposite Rose and Monica and watch as they awkwardly kiss hello. It is the least sexy kiss I have ever watched. It’s like watching my parents kiss. I shudder.
Rose opens her bag and pulls out a laptop, a notebook, and one of those retractable pens with six colors to choose from and gets to work. I clear my throat.
“So, uh, Rose, about that phone charger . . .” Rose reaches into her bag and hands me the long white cord. “Thanks. So, what are you guys working on?”
“An essay,” they reply in unison as they continue working without missing a beat.
“Cool, cool. Me too. Well, I mean, I have an essay for my Love and Eroticism in Western Culture class but I haven’t started it.” Monica sighs in that rude way where she’s clearly trying to let me know I’m being a nuisance, but I ignore her. “Actually, I haven’t even written the proposal yet; I’m having trouble coming up with a good angle for it. Maybe y’all could help me with that?”
Rose glances at me from over her screen. “Look at you, getting into your classes. I’m so proud.”