Remember Me Not

TWENTY-ONE - BEFORE

"I mean, the logistics are pretty straightforward," she said. "But if you can't figure it out, there'll be one other person present who I'm sure will be very happy to show you what goes where..."

"Hanna," I said again. "I think I can handle what goes where. I'm just... daunted by the whole first-time thing, I guess?"

"First of all, virginity is a social construct." She pointed a finger at me like a stern parent. "So don't let any ridiculous expectations get into your head. You're not gonna be used tape or a rose without petals or whatever bullshit those purity-obsessives come up with next. You're not gonna be a changed woman afterward—physically or mentally. If you do get a miraculous new outlook on life from a four-inch piece of anatomy... well, maybe write a book or something. But it's not gonna happen."

Thanks to two words in that sentence, my face was flushing again. "Hanna. I know."

"I'm kidding on the four inches, by the way," she said, with a smirk. "I'm sure Josh is packing more than that."

I buried my face in my pillow. "I'm regretting this entire conversation."

"Look, okay. I'll give you my actual tips. Number one: take it slow. Way slower than you think you need to. There's no such thing as too much foreplay. You should be begging for it before anything goes anywhere."

I lifted my face slightly, daring to look in her direction of the room. I could still feel the heat, but I could get over that; here was obviously something I needed to pay attention to. "Okay."

"Number two: you need to go out and buy some lube. Let me tell you, it is not a middle-aged woman thing. It makes everything easier and feels better—for both of you."

"Really?"

"One hundred percent." She nodded. "If Josh doesn't know that already, then you can be the one to show him. And if he gets weird about it, well, there's a major red flag you'll be glad you spotted this early."

"I don't think he would."

"Then it's a win-win situation," she said. "Put it on your grocery list."

I had to admit: the more she kept talking, the more I felt myself relax. I could always rely on Hanna to give me what I needed. She was so rational and chilled; with every snippet of practical advice, the thing that seemed unfamiliar and terrifying was chipped away, the pieces raining at my feet as tiny, manageable steps. She did exactly what I wished my own brain was capable of.

"Okay," I said. "Keep going."

"Number three: pick your position wisely. You're probably thinking missionary, because it's the obvious one, right?"

Honestly, I hadn't got that far yet, but that was where my mind went then. "Yeah."

"Well, obvious doesn't mean best," she said. "It's your first time, which means you should be the one in control. Makes it easier to relax, too. I suggest you on top."

That sounded a little intimidating. "Are you sure?"

"Trust me," she said, nodding wisely. "I know I'm gay, but I also slept with way more guys in high school than it should've taken me to realize I wasn't, in fact, bisexual. Sometimes I think it was a waste of my time, but I did pick up a few tips along the way. And missionary seems fine until you're lying there with bruised hipbones and an unflattering view of his chin, wishing he'd slow down just a couple hundred miles an hour. I'm telling you—the grass is greener."

I screwed my nose up, a little unnerved by the graphic mental image. "This is a lot to take in. I feel like I should be taking notes."

"It's not, really," she assured me. "I mean, maybe when you talk about it like this, but in the moment it'll all happen naturally. The best thing you can do is not expect it to be some earth-shattering experience. It'll be weird, maybe a little awkward, but it should be fun—and you should also want to go back for more."