The first time I had sex was with an ex after we had already broken up. I lied and told him it wasn’t, that I’d slept with someone else.
That day I took the broad-street line to Temple University, dressed head to toe in black, black leather heeled boots, a cross around my neck.
I’m not sure why I wore a cross to my deflowering – but I did like the black crowes.
Maybe it was more my funeral than anything else.
I show up. We smoke before. We do the deed. It was the first (and only!) time I had an orgasm with that man.
He gives me a shot of Bacardi 151 – I take it straight and it burns on the way down.
I’m tired I want to stay, but he sends me home that night.
Late night, from north philly, drunk and high I somehow made it home.
Years later I told him he was my first.
He remembered the lie.
Laughs and Lobotomies 