by Kelly, Hazel
Many summers ago, I had an affair with a woman in Spain and- for the record- I firmly believe it didn’t make me any gayer than I already was. What it did make me was a more passionate, sensual, and attentive lover. It also made me feel differently about being in my own skin. In a good way.
Before that, I had always focused on my imperfections when I looked in the mirror. I saw the cellulite on my thighs, the stretch marks I was sure no one else had.
But I learned men and lesbians don’t see women that way. They see soft, inviting curves, strength, and sexiness. And sleeping with a woman taught me how to focus on that beauty. It taught me how to see myself by candlelight instead of always under the cheap fluorescent glare of a dressing room.
Even if you’re not inclined to explore women sexually, it’s worth learning how to look at yourself through more forgiving eyes. Because the more difficult you find it to focus on beauty, the harder you must try.
Of course, your wild card lover doesn’t have to be a woman.
If you grew up in a homogenous neighborhood, there are probably all kinds of people who you view as implicitly “other.” This initial world view isn’t your fault in the beginning when you’re just a product of your environment. However, if you remain closed off to people from different backgrounds, you are limiting the person- and the lover- you might become.
For instance, I dated a black guy once… and then a few more after that.
And since I haven’t sugar coated anything yet, allow me to start by saying, yes, the rumors are true. On top of that, many black guys are skilled, enthusiastic lovers.
And it’s refreshing to discover that there are men out there who aren’t buying the bullshit that a woman has to look hungry to be sexy. In fact, in West Africa, one of the biggest compliments a guy can give you is that you’re shaped like a Coca Cola bottle.
Now I know I’m stereotyping here, but I’ve done my research on this one. Heck, I’ve even been to the Motherland, and I don’t mean Mississippi. But don’t take my word for it. Make up your own mind.
And if you’re not attracted to black guys or women, so what? Who cares? They’re just examples.
The point is the more narrow minded you are, the more narrow your sexual experience will be.
So be open to trying new things. Maybe you try something and you like it. Maybe you don’t. At least you lived a little bit. At least you won’t wake up in sixty years having wasted your youth worrying about what other people would think if you spread your legs before date number three.
Life’s too short to live by someone else’s rules. So make your own. Do what feels good and make love to people that interest you.
Honestly, some of the best one night stands of my life were with people with whom the language barriers were so great we could barely understand each other. But that doesn’t matter because love has its own language.
And anyone can become fluent in it.
Chapter 13: Kate
When I got home there were two envelopes on my bed. One was from Penn State. The other was from Loyola Maryland.
I put them out of my mind a few weeks ago when I got into Miami of Ohio. It was a weight off my shoulders to get in somewhere. And lots of people from my school were planning on going there because it was a good school, and it wasn’t too far away.
Plus, the student body was attractive. Which I found kind of intimidating when we visited. But Carol didn't even notice. She was too busy going on about how well maintained the cafeteria was. I suggested that maybe it wasn’t always so immaculate. Maybe the tablecloths were just there to impress the visitors that were arriving by the busload that weekend. But she was having none of it. Probably because she’d love to have me so close.
But tablecloths weren’t very high on my list of priorities.
Of course, a lot of them would be satisfied anywhere: late night parties, interesting classes, a pretty campus. But Miami fell short on two big criteria. For one thing, it wasn’t near a city, and I was worried I’d go crazy if I couldn’t get to one every now and then. Cities made me feel sane and grounded. I think it had something to do with how dwarfed I felt around skyscrapers. Like I was part of something bigger. I know a starry sky does that for a lot of people, but for me nothing beat standing at the bottom of a big glass tower.
The other problem was that I wanted to keep playing lacrosse. But only if I could play at a high level. Because it was such a big commitment. I didn’t love it enough to play just for the sake of it. I loved it because I liked to win. And playing lacrosse at Penn State or Loyola would make me feel like a winner.
I sat down and held the smooth envelopes in my hand.
One of them was heavy. One of them wasn’t.
I know a lot of people would have ripped them open instantly, but I wasn’t that kind of person. I needed to collect myself and take a few deep breaths. After all, my entire future could be altered by what was on the other side of that fresh adhesive.
I knew a few of my classmates were already planning on going to Penn State. Not many, but a few. And like the Notre Dame kids, they all had legacy strings to pull. So it wasn’t a matter of finding out whether you got in. It was a matter of finding out how soon the school wanted your first payment.
But Loyola was different. No one was going to Loyola. I don’t know why. Probably because they didn’t visit. If they had, they would’ve seen what I saw- a gorgeous campus full of really normal looking people.
Of course, the fact that no one else was going there both exhilarated and terrified me. From my understanding, Penn was so big it didn’t matter if there were a few former classmates knocking around. You still might never see them again. But it’s not the same as going it alone. And by “it” I mean the biggest journey of my life to date.
I exhaled and tore open the letter from Penn.
“Dear Kate, We are writing to inform you blah blah… skimming… Thank you for applying to Penn State… Blah blah skimming skimming… waitlisted. Waitlisted!”
I was delighted. Not as delighted as I would’ve been if I’d gotten in, but not as bummed as I would’ve been if I’d gotten rejected. Being waitlisted wasn’t a rejection. It was a maybe! Maybe they would still want me!
But I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Especially before I knew what news the other envelope held.
I turned my attention to the heavier letter, stuck my pointer finger under the flap into the open corner, and slid it across. I pulled out the folded letter, and when I opened it, a greyhound sticker fell in my lap.
My lips moved with the words as I read them.
“Dear Kate… Thank you for applying… blah blah skimming… CONGRATULATE YOU… skimming skimming blah blah… SCHOLARSHIP.”
Holy shit. I must’ve read the letter three times before I processed what it said. Not only did they want me to go to their school and play lacrosse, but they wanted to pay me to go to their school and play lacrosse.
I fell back on the bed and clutched the letter to my chest. I couldn’t believe it. Not only was I definitely going to college, but I had options. The word reverberated in my soul. Options! That’s why I had studied so hard in the first place, wasn’t it? So that I would have options?!
Surely, that’s the most Carol and Dawn ever could’ve wanted for me, and now their wish had come true. Maybe they hadn’t fucked up so bad after all. Maybe neither had I. It felt like my future- everything- was all going to work out after all.
I was so excited I couldn’t move.
Which was okay because I didn’t feel like telling anyone just yet. I wanted it to be my happy secret for a few minutes. I rolled over onto my stomach and unfolded the other papers. There was one about dorm selection and one about meal plan selection. Which I planned to study carefully when I calmed down.
There was even one about freshman orientation that made me roll my eyes. Cause I knew the drill. Finally, there was a formal letter from the lacrosse coach explaining what I would be a part of if I said “yes.”
&nb
sp; I mumbled yes to myself the entire time I was reading the material. I could already see myself in the white and green uniform. I could imagine grabbing a quick dinner in the busy cafeteria after practice with my teammates before returning to my perfectly decorated dorm room to study something fascinating. I could picture myself getting dressed up for class and holding my notes to my chest while I walked across the campus.
Then I got scared.
Because it was far away and I wouldn’t know anybody. I would have to start over with nothing but a clean slate.
But I could tell by the way my insides were spinning that it was a good kind of scared. The first good kind of scared I’d felt in a long time.
And I had no idea whether or not I could do it. All I knew was that there was only one way to find out.
Chapter 14: Dawn
Lover #5: The Less Experienced Lover
It is inevitable in any sexually active woman’s life that she will come across someone who has less experience than she does. And while she might not have the opportunity to learn new things in this situation, being the more experienced lover is still a position of great responsibility.
I took a guy’s virginity once. He was an old friend and a colleague, and after a few drinks one thing led to another. He was also an athlete and in excellent shape. So I let him do most of the work, though I like to think I made it worth his while.
The rug burns on his knees the next day were the stuff of legend, or at least, the stuff of a pretty amusing inside joke between the two of us.
Obviously, a woman with my extensive experience has had the upper hand on more than one occasion. However, in times like these, it is important to consider what it’s like to be the more nervous party and make the other person comfortable.
For example, fast and furious isn’t an appropriate sexual setting in this case. Plus, chances are that the other person will remember every last detail more vividly and for much longer than you will. So take your time. Make it special for them. Maybe even try and teach them something new like your previous sexual partners so kindly did with you.
But I’d also like to include a warning here. Not all men enjoy sex recreationally. In order to be a sexually responsible woman, you must not use your powers for evil.
For example, you will only regret seducing someone who has strong feelings for you that you can’t reciprocate. It’s wrong to lead people on and give them false hope whether the circumstances are sexual or otherwise. Most women I’ve known who have close male friends have at least two that would sleep with them given the chance. And not only would they sleep with them, but these friends often harbor feelings that go way beyond that.
And just like you wouldn’t want someone to play around with your feelings and use you as a means to an end, don’t do it to others. Mutual play is fine. Objectification is not.
So figure out who’s “off limits” based on this criteria and respect that.
Then, while you’re at it, take a moment to think about which of your male friends are the type that lose all respect for women after they hook up with them, and do yourself a favor. Vow never to fool around with them either. Because it will mess up your friendship. Trust me. I learned this the hard way. More than once.
Anyway, when taking on a less experienced partner, just follow the Golden Rule. Because people are delicate, especially when they’re naked and vulnerable. And no matter how shocked you might be to discover that someone has less experience than you, cultivate a default reaction of compassion and understanding.
And for the love of god, never laugh at a man when he’s naked whether he’s just baring his soul or a whole lot more. The only appropriate reaction to a naked man is to be both excited and impressed. And if you aren’t, you ought to reconsider taking things further. Preferably while putting your clothes back on.
Finally, should your inexperienced partner enjoy himself too much too soon, try to avoid using the phrase “don’t worry, it happens to lots of guys.” The reason being that comments like this do nothing but mislead and discourage him while demeaning you.
That being said, have fun with beginners. They’re often eager to learn and best of all, eager to please.
Chapter 15: Kate
I dropped my beer can a full two seconds before Danielle did.
“I can’t believe how much beer you just wasted. You poured half of it out on the lawn!” I said, pointing to the puddle at her feet. “I’m never shot gunning with you again.”
Danielle bent over and put her hands on her knees. Which was standard. Even the little bit of beer that she’d swallowed might not stay there. Her gag reflex was extremely delicate. As a result, not only did she eat painfully slow, like, all the time, but I was also pretty confident that she’d never binged and purged.
She stood up and looked at me.
“Let me guess, you’re shitfaced?”
“Nearly,” she said. “Let’s get another, but not for shot gunning this time.”
“Okay,” I said, putting my arm over her shoulder and heading back inside.
I don’t know if it was just me, but it seemed our parties had evolved in recent months. People were becoming more relaxed about who was welcome in their homes and stuff, which was nice. I liked to think it was because we were all getting older and wiser in the face of our impending graduation.
However, maybe it was just a side effect of the fact that the parties were getting wilder, too. We were all getting a little drunker and staying out a little later. It was like everyone’s parents felt like they’d gotten us close enough to the finish line that we could probably make it from here.
A few parents hadn’t loosened the reigns, but it seemed so ridiculous. Like, why sink your claws into your kid when they’re just trying to have a good time? Especially when six months down the road they’re going to be doing whatever they want and whoever they want whenever they want. Seemed to me that starting to let go was better for everybody.
Then again, when I saw the wobbly stances and blood shot eyes of the people in the kitchen, it occurred to me that maybe we weren’t all equally ready to be unleashed on the world.
There was a flip cup tournament going on around the butcher block led by none other than Ian. Just the sight of him made my skin crawl now like I needed to take a shower. He was standing next to some junior bustdown. She wasn’t even playing the game, just ogling him and filling up his beer.
Behind them, three guys huddled around the sink doing waterfalls- or as I heard them say- “getting catatonic.” This involved taking turns huffing weed from a plastic two liter bottle and coughing like pussies. And if their slitty eyes were anything to go by, the shit they were smoking wasn’t half bad.
But I was fine just watching them. I didn’t really want to get catatonic. What I wanted was for Kevin to show up, but he’d already promised a friend of his that he’d go downtown. But I knew the truth. He was over this scene. And even though I sort of wanted to be, I wasn’t.
I wanted to squeeze every last memory from these high school parties because time was running out, and it wouldn’t be long before we’d all have to start taking life more seriously.
I encouraged Danielle to slide into the ‘breakfast nook’ which is what I imagine Mrs. Ford called it when it was being used legally. Then I grabbed two cups of keg beer and returned to her side. She hadn’t been in a very good mood lately, and I wanted to be understanding without encouraging her to dwell.
“Have you considered doing your sulking during the week? Maybe even during school hours like I do? So you could muster up some cheer by Saturday night?”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I’d be cheery if I got into my dream school like all these ass clowns.” She waved her cup in the direction of the butcher block.
I agreed with the ass clowns thing, and she was probably right. I mean, everyone she was referring to was a varsity athlete. “You don’t want to go to school with them anyway.”
“It’s just embarrassing. That’s all.”
“What is?”
“Community college. Not being able to afford to go somewhere cool and far away like everyone else.”
“It’s not.”
“Really? Cause I haven’t heard anyone bragging about it lately.”
“It’s not a death sentence. At least you got into the other schools. Didn’t you tell me you could transfer in two years after you save some money?”
She nodded.
“So it’s not the end of the world.”
She leaned back and acted like she was going to take a big swig of beer, but instead she just took a few tiny sips. I watched her throat move as she did it.
“It’s going to be fine.”
She nodded like she wanted to believe me. “Yeah.”
I rubbed my hand on her back while I chugged half my beer.
“So where’s Kevin tonight?”
“I don’t know. Downtown or something. He said he’d come if he could, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“Are you guys-”
“Are we what?”
“Ya know?” she asked. “Bumping uglies?”
I felt my eyes and mouth open wide but nothing came out.
She laughed. “Sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”
“That is a hideous expression.”
“My Mom used it the other day when she was bitching about my step sister.”
“You’re joking. That’s right up there with ‘necking’.”
“I know. She accused her of bumping uglies with anyone with a letter jacket?”
“A letter jacket?”
“I know. The woman is out of touch.”
“You should tell her that talking like that ages her terribly.” I looked up and saw Ian Eskimo kissing the scrawny blond girl.