I hadn’t intended to write a series of posts walking down memory lane but now that I’ve started, I’ll continue with at least my first date story. It’s a bit unusual maybe in terms of how fast everything happened but it was by design and I knew what I was doing with it. Plus, all these years later it still makes me smile to think of it.

To set the scene, I was both raised in a strict home environment and also in a house where I had all the freedom I could ever want. I don’t know how much that makes sense? But my dad and older brother were protective and even when I might have a crush or had any attention from my brother’s friends, it would quickly be shut down by my dad or my brother.

Fast forward to me being a teenager with access to public transport, the Internet had meant that spaces online had been created where I could connect with others without the presence of my family and didn’t have to rely on school or hobbies to connect me with other people. So at 16, I went on my first date.

He was someone I met online in a chatroom for my local area. We must have messaged back and forth quite a bit before we agreed to meet up but I don’t remember what we talked about. He was 18 and I don’t remember too much about him all these years later. He had a proper adult job, he lived in his own studio flat. He had a car. He seemed to be interested in me, which was key for me. Eventually he asked if I wanted to go on a date and if I would like to be picked up?

I hadn’t wanted him to know where I lived right away, so I agreed and met him at the park at the end of my road. I remember what I wore. Wide legged jeans and my favourite vest top, no bra. My hair down and wild around my face. I hadn’t thought to change my clothes or brush my hair. And as I leaned over to say hi to him through his car window I remember that when he saw me, he did this big gulp before he said ‘oh god, you’re really pretty’ and I smiled. It was the first time I remember anyone ever telling me that I was pretty.

I think he had hoped that I would be impressed by his car. It was red and possibly a model of car that is impressive to other people. I liked that he had his freedom with it. He drove me to a place that sells burgers just a bit nicer than fast food and again, I don’t remember what we talked about all evening. I mostly remember that I didn’t particularly like how tall he was (probably 6’2) but I liked his big blue eyes and when he smiled, which wasn’t often, he looked younger than he was. I think he thought I was more serious than I came across online so it was a surprise to him when I said something funny.

After we’d finished eating, he asked if I needed to get back home or if I had some time to drive around. I was intrigued enough to say I’d stick around and we drove around listening to the music playing from the radio. He didn’t like my taste in music, if I recall, but we argued about it in a way that made me laugh.

Eventually he parked his car in this area that sort of overlooked the town we lived in. When he turned the engine off he blushed a little bit before he said surely I’ve been here before, sorry for him not being more original. And I said I hadn’t been there before. He was surprised, he said it was a place that a lot of people go to … and he got embarrassed again and almost didn’t want to finish the sentence. Make out? I suggested and he seemed relieved that I wasn’t offended.

Where do you normally go on your dates? he asked. This is my first date, I said. More surprise. And he said does that mean I’d had boyfriends and stuff and just hadn’t been out on a date? Nope, I said. And that’s when he got a little quiet. Processing that, I guess.

I loved that he was surprised. I loved that he thought I was the type of pretty girl that got invited out to dates so often, that I’d breezed through all the hot date spots, that I had experience with boys. But I wasn’t that girl. But I loved pretending to be that girl with him. So when he started playing a game, I went along with it.

So …that means you’ve never been kissed before? And I smiled. No, I’ve never been kissed. Do you want to? he asked. And silently, I leaned over to him, trying to lick my lips first before I had my first kiss. That was soft and gentle and exceedingly sweet.

So …that means you’ve never had a second kiss? No, I’ve not. Or a third kiss… and there we were kissing again around my smile. I don’t remember all the things he said to me that night. The different suggestions he gave.

But they kept coming so …you’ve never been touched by a boy? on your neck? or kissed on your neck? No. I think he liked being all my firsts. That I’d never been to a make out spot and made out for hours. His hand started easing up my vest top at one point but he’d stop and he’d say so …that means nobody has ever touched you here, as his hand slowly went higher up to the side of my breast. No, I’d say, breathless from pleasure, nobody has ever touched me there. Or here? he said, as his fingers grazed across my nipple.

It was agonising in its slowness, as he stopped each time to ask, to get my confirmation that that had never happened. The unspoken consent I gave as I leaned into his kisses, into his touch. Into every suggestion he gave. Even when he knew he was crossing a line. But I was young and impatient and I wanted it all. I knew where my boundaries were and he didn’t cross any of them. He was chancing it but I wanted to go to these places with him, I was ready, I’d just never had this opportunity before.

So …does that mean you’ve never seen a penis in real life? No, I haven’t. Do you want to?

Does that mean you’ve never touched a penis before? No. Do you want to?

Does that mean you’ve never had a penis in your mouth before? Do you want to?

I was acting and making decisions on pure instinct but I didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong, I didn’t feel pressured. I knew that I was in control, he put me in charge of what I wanted to do and what I didn’t. And I knew all along that if I’d said ‘no’ that things would end. But even in the moment I remember wanting to know how far things would go, where would they end?

But I swirled my tongue over his dick for a few minutes at the most before it all ended and I think with his release some of the lust haze had cleared and he suddenly felt bad that we’d done what we had. It all ended fairly rapidly after that and he dropped me home.

But he called me the next day. And the next day. And once, a few weeks later, as we were walking about the High Street, holding hands he abruptly stopped and said ‘I really like you, will you be my girlfriend?’ And so he became my first boyfriend as well as all my other firsts.