Sunday, September 20

Firsts and Hopefully Lasts

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning on what is now Sunday, the last day in a weekend of firsts.

This is the first time I’ve spent a weekend night sleeping in my own bed in a handful of weeks. What does that mean, you ask?

Let’s not beat around the bush. We’re all adults here. No, I am not a virgin. Yes, I am having sex. Before you get your knickers in a twist, allow me to assure you I’m not the pony-at-the-fair of College. It’s with one man and you’ve probably seen it coming.

The Minimalist and I are having sex. We’re doing the deed. We get carnal. We do the horizontal tango. Whatever you want to call it (besides bumping uglies). And you know what else?

I like it. And I like him. And I like waking up next to him. And I like the silly looks his roommates give us when we finally come out of his room. And I love the golf clap they gave me the first time I came out of his room. And I like spending hours in bed with him in the mornings (and into the afternoons), feeling skin against skin and kissing that skin softly. I even like being the big spoon sometimes. And I like it when he stares at my ass. And I like how he watches me get dressed in the morning. And I like the little hickies that now cover my arms and neck.

For whatever reason, though, we didn’t hang out tonight. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I was with him this morning, this afternoon, and this evening. Not consistently, mind you, but still a good bit of time. The only reason I’ve spent this much time thinking about it is because 1) I was looking really really good (super frilly panties, eyeliner, matching bra) 2) I have no one to cuddle with 3) campus was dead tonight, so his absence was highlighted.

It’s okay, though. Considering I met him the first weekend I was here and have hung out with him every weekend since, it’s not bad to have a night to stand on my own two feet. I need to remember my independence.

This weekend was also the first time that the beautiful little bubble that College and all of its inhabitants (including myself) exist in was broken. College is a liberal place. There are women with hairier legs than most men. Pride, the club for gays, lesbians, bisexuals, etc etc etc, is one of the most popular on campus. Only recently has nudity been against the rules. The dinning hall serves mainly local and organic vegetables and some of the best tofu I’ve ever had. If you don’t embrace that lifestyle, or at the very least tolerate it, then you made the wrong choice in coming here.

And this weekend a gay student was the victim of a hate crime. Maybe it wasn’t quite a hate crime because no harm came to him or his property, but it was definitely harrassement. The cowards taped notes to his door and to rocks they threw through his window saying that he doesn’t deserve life and that death would almost be too good for him and “his kind”.

This guy is a lovely, nice, soft-spoken, almost shy guy. Even if he was the biggest prick in the world, nobody has a right to say things like that. Nobody has the right to judge people like that.

They haven’t caught the guy yet.

I was also debuted to rugby society this weekend. By debuted I mean that the first women’s game was this weekend, not that I played. My reaction to not playing is another first.

Sports have never been my idea of a good time. Running, throwing a ball around, rules, formations, plays. All of that stuff bores me. And the idea that people, an entire team and all of the fans, are depending on me to remember how to do all of that when I get the ball is frightening. The idea of it practically paralyzes me with fear.

Not today, though. Standing on the sidelines, watching my team mates catch and run and tackle and be tackled, I wanted nothing more than to jump in there with them. I wanted to be part of the action. This is a new side of me, one I never even imagined existed.

When the game was over and I saw the glow of sweat and accomplishment on my teammates’ faces, I knew I would not settle for not playing next weekend.

Maybe next weekend will be another weekend of firsts, better firsts, though. Like first keg stand. Or first time I lead a rugby song at the social. Or the first time I actually do all my homework on Friday like I plan to.

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