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Female • 17 years old years old • Pennsylvania I celebrated the end of my junior year of high school with my ultra-cool, apartment-renting, punk-rock-music-educating, twenty-one-year-old boyfriend dumping me. So when I ended up at a local punk-rock show he was also attending a scant few months later, I decided jealousy was the best weapon.Of course, his mother and still-elementary-school-aged sister could easily be heard moving through the rooms above us.
We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but neither of us ever had a condom, so we both remained virgins. He was also shirtless, except for three pages torn from , adhered to him by his surprisingly sticky sweat. Using my sweet-ass vintage Wonder Woman t-shirt and the kind of perky boobs only a girl of seventeen can possess, I zeroed my sights in on Dan, a bassist who spastically jumped and thrashed through his band’s set of three-chord, throat-punishing songs.I thought only about two things on the way up: make-out sessions with college sophomores, and how delicious all of the vodka concoctions would taste on the way down. At a college rager, amongst waves of red cups and cigarette butts, I met someone who would become the first love of my teenage life. I didn’t have to think twice about ditching my friends, and spent the rest of the weekend trying to impress and out-cool my new beau.He was from Los Angeles, black-haired, clad in vintage specs and a white t-shirt. Before him, I’d never wanted to give anyone an inch, let alone a mile.