"That's the wrong hole."

I forgot to blog on the ten year anniversary of the loss of my virginity. It was the Chicago heatwave summer and my sublet had a western exposure. My first time was, not surprisingly, very sweaty. It was also a debacle. Not so easy to get your rocks off when you're unable to ignore the fact that you're inflicting pain. So as further support for my theory that life only gets better with age, at least now I know where the appropriate hole is (appropriate depending on the circumstances, of course).