I was married for 10 years. The man I married had been my boyfriend since I was 15. One of the practical upshots of this situation is that I had never had sex with anyone but him.
As much as I was looking forward to the making out prospects of being single, I was more than a little worried about the sex bit. I had questions. What if I wasn't any good at it? Was it possible to have sex without the other party ever seeing my bottom?
I figured the first-time hurdle would be the most difficult. I figured it would be uncomfortable, and awkward, and not necessarily fun, but then I would have leapt the hurdle and could move on.
I like to think I'm all spontaneous and such, but I'm not. I make too many lists to be spontaneous. Imagine my surprise when I found myself, a month or so after my husband moved out, spontaneously going home with someone. He was pretty, he was tall, he was smart, he was an artist, and he wasn't a serial killer — all of which I found appealing.
It occurred to me to be thankful that I was wearing one of my only pairs of nice underwear. It occurred to me that I should really think about buying some more.
As hurdles go, it was easier than I thought to leap this particular one. I found myself, while in the midst, thinking: hmmm — this is... different somehow. Oh — this is sex without a whole lot of baggage attached. So this is what that's like. Yeah, this I could get used to.
When I left, he asked for my phone number. I declined. I wasn't ready for any kind of commitment.