About sharing It was my wedding night; the first time I would be intimate with a man. My head was a blur of images, of dreams and desires from the many conversations with my close friends and the pornographic videos I had watched. I entered the room, holding a customary glass of milk, keeping my face down. It was all very traditional, just as I had imagined. But little did I know that a rude shock was awaiting me. Or rather, a huge disappointment. In my fantasy, I entered our room and my husband embraced me tightly, smothered me with kisses and passionately made love all night. In reality, he had fallen asleep before I came in.
Able-bodied, maybe my friends were a minute ago sluts, but we never did that. We preferred to be inattentive about our first fuck. Before something equally embarrassing. But our idyllic deflowering fantasies rarely came to fruition. In reality, a good number girls from my school abandoned their virginity slumped against a tree in an apple coppice, bark jabbing uncomfortably into their spines, in between rounds of beer pong.