Poopoo…poof! My virginity was gone.
“How many beers can you funnel,” he asked. He didn’t give a shit how many beers I could funnel. He didn’t even know me. He was challenging me. And FUCK this guy if he thought I would stand down to him.
“Six,” I said. “I can funnel a six-pack.”
Hours later I woke up on the pool’s diving board in the middle of a full on rager. With dozens of people around me and in the pool, ‘Nothin but a G thang’ blaring from the speakers on the deck, and countless empty cups and beer cans surrounding me, I stood up. Whaaat the fuck? “Where’s my shirt,” I thought to myself. [Thankfully, I was still wearing my pants.] My head was spinning and I could hardly focus on anything. The summer sun had been beating down on me for hours, leaving me a victim of its thousands of fiery fists.
I stumbled back into the house, hardly recognizing a soul I passed, but dishing out high-fives and “Yeah, you know its” like it was my job. I finally found a bathroom. And I owned it. I vomited {gallons of} alcohol and food that I had little recollection of consuming. [Maybe I funneled a few cheeseburgers and hotdogs too? At least it looked and tasted like I had.]
As I left the bathroom, music and {more} binge drinking called my name from the right – but to the left, I saw a mountain of pillows, coats and bags tucked away in a bedroom that was far more inviting. And I couldn’t resist.
Sometime later, I awoke again. But something was…er, something was weird.
CLICK-CLACK-CLICK. CLICK-CLACK-CLICK. CLICK-CLACK-CLICK – like riding to a roller coaster’s peak. The sound of my pants’s zipper. It’s all that I heard and felt.
I struggled to catch my breath and focus. What was happening? Whaa…who was unzipping my jeans? And what…who…who was kissing me? I focused my eyes on a girl straddling me. Unzipping me. Putting her tongue in my mouth. And I thought: Are you fucking kidding me!? [I had jerked off at least a thousand times thinking about moments JUST like this! And now it was finally happening!]
The bedroom door was closed, but I could still hear the muffled sounds of the party and bass of some hip-hop music outside. I lifted her shirt over her head, myself still shirtless and stingingly sunburned. Her hands struggled with my belt buckle and mine with her bra [obviously]. Her fingers and lips tasted like Zima, and her tongue had the faint taste of cigarettes. I. Didn’t. Care.
We rolled around tongue-to-tongue, tit-to-tit and then it happened. She reached into my shorts and pulled it out. [This was actually going to fuckin’ happen. Tonight! NOW!] Again, I came up for a breath. But this time she was clumsily tearing open a condom. […thank gawd she was, because this wasn’t a thought even remotely in my drunken mind at that moment.] And just like I’d practiced what it shows us in the instructions, she pinched the tip and unrolled it onto my…[yeah…].
Then it hit me. In that moment of {brief} clarity, I finally saw who this was on top of me – who it was that I was inside of.
Flashback to a previously blacked out moment from earlier that day…
Me: Hey, you up next for a keg stand?
She: Nah, om naht dohin thaht. No waa.
Me: …
She: Om Dahnyell (extending her hand)
Me: …
Back to the moment…
I was fucking – or more accurately, be fucked by – the DEAF girl?!?! [Mr. Poopoopachu FTW!]
I was now fixated on every sound she made. Every breathy moan and expression of pleasure. Like Wesley in ‘Wanted,’ I felt as though I could slow down the moment and more concisely focus my reaction to maximize it.
“Yehhhs!”…“Mohhhr”…It was amazing. Exciting. [Even then I knew, in that moment, that I had a story for the ages – how Poopoopachu lost his virginity would last forever.]
Once I was in, I don’t know, maybe I lasted 2 minutes. [Thank you, dickbag who challenged me to funnel a six-pack – and drink whatever else!] That’s not the point, people. I was done. It was done. I was…“a man.”
She and I never spoke again. All that I ever learned about her was that she was deaf, could hardly speak and she worked at McDonalds at the time [classic, I know].
Over the new few years later, when Friendster, Myspace and Facebook became more prevalent, I searched for her a few times. But considering that I didn’t know her last name, hometown, college, email, etc., it was impossible. So I go on not knowing her identify. And I’m okay with this. After all, it has provided an awesome story for me to share when discussing with friends how we lost “it.”
So now that I’ve shared my story of losing my virginity to a deaf, partially mute girl, who vanished into the American landscape, I would hope that some of you might share your tales. C’mon…let’s hear it.
About Mr. Poopoopachu
There's so many horribly inappropriate snippets that popped into my head after reading this, none of which involve my own loss of virginity experience. Instead of picking one, I decided to list them all.
~ "I think she's touring with Marless Matlin's Deaf Comedy Jam"
~ "I'm not sure if she really got off herself. I'll just take her muffled word for it."
~ "I heard she's around, but clearly she hasn't heard anything about me."
~ "I used her hearing aid as a cock ring."
~ "Instead of trying to talk dirty to her, I just set myself on vibrate."
~ "She worked at McDonalds… that explains the issues at the drive-thru."
~ "I couldn't tell if she was moaning or if she had Parkinsons." (think about that one a minute if it's unclear…)
That of course should say "Marlee" Matlin…
God I wish I had gotten here first and written all that…
Right!? I could've simply wrote: "I lost my virginity to a deaf girl"…and followed it with Mattatonic's one-liners and called it a day.
maybe we'll get the "companion" comic strip to this in a few days???
Wow, mattatonic – thanks? You're clearly a more terrible person for replying like this than I am for sharing the story. (Or at least that's how I position it in my own mind.)
…you had me at Deaf Comedy Jam.
Who cares that she was deaf…SHE DRANK ZIMA… {shakes head in disgust}
C'mon, we ALL drank Zima, no?
insert awkward silence here
I'm feeling the need to defend Zima drinking here, for some reason. Why do I feel this need?!
I drank Zima. I know a LOT of people–too many, in fact–that did the exact same thing.
That said, I love this story. That said, it still sits weird with me that if, let's say, the players played the opposite role, Poop would be in jail right now. But, no, not Deaf Girl. So weird.
But, then again, that said–love the story.
All valid points, Angelatav. Fact is, I don't know how to sign "no" or "stop" so I decided that I'd just go along with it.
Okay, that's not funny. Or perhaps it is? Yes, yes it is. I just decided that it's funny. But you're right, had our roles been reversed, I'd likely be writing today's post about my first prison sex experience. (Not nearly as funny.)
But, in WAY better news, Zima tasted like Sprite. Remember, circa 1994 or so? "OH MY GOD, IT TASTES LIKE SPRITE!"
PS. Pretty funny, yes. How do you sign "Stop"? If you put your hand in her face, do you think she would have been all, "Oh, he REALLY wants this!"
I tried that, but she just gave me a high-five and then really hunkered down.
someone should do a study; there must be a direct correlation between drinking zima and losing one's virginity
I can't say shit about drinking Zima…Nowadays, I drink Mango Smirnoff Ice whenever I can, that shit isn't much better.
In fact, that's worse. Horrible libation management.
But it tastes so GOOD….
if you get tired of the mango, try bacardi pomegranate mojitos. BARF. i mean, they're really good!
Better than Poop's awkward silent insertion. BA-BAM!!!
Better than Poop's awkward silent insertion. Bam!
ZIMA and grenadine ,{im such a woss}
DADDY! Good news…thanks to your gene pool I can hear AND funnel a six pack!
I just hope that you didn't get your mother's questionable sexual behavior gene. Or my gigantism. Wave "hello" to your mom for me!
This really should've been a podcast so you could hear me mimic her speech.
You neglected to share your age. Did this happen last year? (mwaw ha ha ha ha!)
Oh sorry, it was this past weekend – so 33. Is that weird? I hear that I'm ahead of the curve that most guys as geeky as myself get down to it.
(Summer '94. 17 years young.)
She must have been blind, too
Perhaps blind drunk
Since no one else is sharing…..
June 7, 1996, with my captain of the wrestling team boyfriend, Ben. John Dennis's (mutual friend) basement on a pull out couch with Desperato in the background. Earlier that night I'd been at a Tori Amos concert. Figured it was time to give it up.
Even from the first time I knew he was a bad lay. (and then reproved it to myself almost 10 years later by hitting it again & he was still just as bad)
Ha! Nice!
Handicapped bitches need drunk dick too, I guess.
You shoulda' gone for the anal, not like you would have realized she was saying no, and even if she signed it intensely, you might have thought she was hailing a cab.
It could have been…Worse? A friend of a friend relayed a story recently about banging a chick with Rickets. He was like "She had a hot face, it was just her limbs were all bloobity and shit." The best part? He woke up, and she was gone, no goodbye, no number, no note. Even the chick with Rickets was ashamed she slept with him. Maybe that's why you can't find the liquored up deaf girl?
Well now that I've Binged(TM) Rickets, I'm disgusted by "your friend's" actions. But to borrow a line I heard somewhere a long, long time ago: Rickety bitches need drunk dick too, I guess.
I'm sort of disappointed no one has ventured forth with a "you complete me" line yet.
When the day comes that I find this girl — and I will find her someday!! — I'll write a follow up piece dedicated to you.
hi, lover.
better yet… would you like fries with that?
I agree. I would like to know at what age this maniac took advantage of you?
I've never considered that night's events as being "taken advantage of." Granted, as someone pointed out earlier in the Comments, had the roles been reversed, I'd very likely be writing this from a cell block upstate. Either way, it was the Summer of '94; I was 17 and she was 19. (Thanks for reading!)
Poop, way to make something that could have come off as very uncomfortable very entertaining! Is your life some kind of whacked out John Hughes movie?
Thanks, The Tailor. Funny you should mention John; he used to contact me regularly during my adolescence for insight on American youth culture. You know, what we kids were into nowadays; how we were dressing, talking, what music we were listening to. I was a great influence on him – and his work.
I have to say that I really enjoyed this story–that it's stuck with me days after I first read. Just thinking about how anonymous (yet not at all!) this deeply significant (or at least culturally significant) moment was for you two… I still imagine a world where she could stumble on this story how and recognize the details…I wonder if you two will ever cross paths again. Of course the writer in me wants it to happen…not sure it needs to though..
Unfortunately, this all went down before the social networking boom and I have very few legit inroads remaining in my life now to that time seemingly a lifetime ago.
Over the next few years following that summer, I occasionally popped into the McDonalds where I knew she’d worked in hope of seeing her. Not because of any sentimental attachment, of course, but primarily because I am…I mean WAS!…pig and I wanted another go at it. …Oh, funny little story about this: The first time I went by the McDonalds, I visited the Drive Thru. I was disappointed not to see her when I pulled up to the window, but then quickly realized, “Idiot! A deaf girl wouldn’t be working the drive thru!”
okay i bet you that i can funnel a 12 pack of ZIMA with my ears plugged and eyes closed,come to think of it if im drinking zima lets take away all my senses
It was Coors Light that I funneled. I remember, because it was my first mass beer purchase with a fake ID. The Zima was special for the ladies, Brian.
… Still a better love story than twilight