Be it your first internship or first sexually awkward moments, we all remember the “firsts” that we have encountered during our college years. Here are a few comical accounts provided by Plymouth State’s finest, regarding their most blunderous experiences.
Fresh out the Oven
As cliché as it sounds, I am head over heels in love with my girlfriend. The two of us met here at Plymouth State our freshman year, and three years later, we are still inseparable. Notwithstanding, we have had our fair share of issues. One issue in particular is recurring. My girlfriend is what my father would call an “oven”. Meaning, she takes a while to warm up. More specifically, when we are attempting to have sexual relations, I cannot just put “it” in. I have to caress her, kiss her, and most terrifyingly…eat it. As close to perfect as my wonderful girlfriend is, the appearance of her vagina is misleading. Though its visual appeal is phenomenal, its taste is quite questionable. A mixture of salt and tart, I find myself gasping for fresh air after only a few minutes of baking. For Valentine’s Day weekend, the two of us decided to rent a cabin up north for a romantic getaway. When we arrived at our cabin that Friday evening, my girlfriend was extremely lovey dovey– much more than usual. Though it didn’t take long for my sexual arousal to match hers, and almost immediately, we were both unclothed and sprawled about on the nearest piece of furniture. I am not sure if it was a spiritual effect of the full moon, but for the first time since the advent of our relationship, I was dying to go down on her. So I did. And you know what? It was not at all what I expected. She tasted like water with a hint of sugar and I was so impressed that I stayed down for longer than I typically would. Unfortunately, that was my downfall. As soon as I picked my head up to breathe, a horrified look appeared on my girlfriends face, and I simultaneously felt something stuck in my teeth. I reached to pick it out, and to my surprise, it was a piece of toilet paper. No amount of love can prepare you for an experience like this, and as a hormone driven male, I was completely thrown off. Most people would expect our relationship to end shortly after the incident, but in fact, not only did our relationship continue, but it – along with our sex life improved. My girlfriend evolved from an oven, to a microwave, and I don’t even have to pre-heat anymore. Problem solved.
Shallow Hal
In my community, a great “coming out” story is praiseworthy. However, my account is something I have recently decided keep to myself. Hence, whenever I am asked when I knew I was “different” than other girls, I typically say things like, “when I formed a crush on Lizzie McGuire” or “when I started wearing boxers and baggy clothing.” Not to say that these statements are fiction, but I rarely tell others of my actual moment of truth. In all actuality, my watershed moment occurred during recess in the 6th grade. My best friend at the time, who was just as innocent and inexperienced as I, kissed me under the jungle gym. I am not sure what compelled her to do such a thing, but, to my surprise, I liked it. It was not until the very instant that she and I joined lips, that I had my light bulb moment: I was attracted to girls. From that point on and for many years to come, my “best friend” and I grew closer, and by the 9th grade, she and I were doing more than hand holding and pop kissing. However, at that particular time in my life, although I was fairly certain of my homosexuality, I felt it necessary to continue to explore with other people. Luckily, before I got the chance to break things off with her, she and her family made the decision to relocate to Massachusetts. For the years following her move, I most definitely lived life, taking the term “experimentation” to the extreme. After I graduated high school, I decided to stay local to remain closer to my parents and naturally; I ended up enrolling in Plymouth State University. These past 2 years at Plymouth State have been incredible. I made friends, memories, and academic endeavors that I will never forget, and even met the girl of my dreams. Alas, every fairy tale has its blunder, and unfortunately, my “college sweetheart” and I parted ways. Just when I was considering staying off the dating radar, my old “best friend” and I reconnected via Facebook. This time, things were different. We were both more mature, and not to mention, she was extremely appealing to the eyes. We discussed our current lives and our hopes for a romantic future for the two of us. She planned on transferring to Plymouth State this spring, and I offered to take her out for coffee, followed by an unofficial tour of the campus. As always, I was the first to arrive to our day-date. I chose a seat in the back of the café as I nervously awaited her arrival. Moments later, I heard my name being called from the doorway. When I looked up, an unfamiliar figure approached my table, but as it grew closer, I realized that it was her. The best friend who I had been waiting anxiously for months to reconnect with was…different than I expected. For one, her voice was deeper than I remember, and she appeared to have a substantial amount of what she had recently described to me as “a little bit of peach fuzz”. In addition, as far as I could tell, she grew just as much in height as she did in weight. To put this into perspective, she and I had exchanged “recent” pictures of ourselves via text message, and there was roughly a 200 pound difference between the images and the real McCoy. A friend once told me that “big girls need love too,” and while I concur with the statement, I felt it was no longer valid because she had literally hoodwinked me into meeting with the slimmer version of herself. Not only had my first girl experience ended up a failure, but out of this situation arose another “first”. For the first time in my life, I wish I had remained in the closet.
Confidence is Key
I will never forget Plymouth State University. In retrospect, although I lived 18 years of life before my collegiate years here, these past four years have been the driving force behind my evolution into the very man that I am today. How could they not be? It was here that I had my first real-world experiences away from home. I celebrated my once-in-a-lifetime 21st birthday, pulled my first “all-nighter” and for the first time in my life, found myself surrounded by a student body that thought smart was “cool”. However, with each noteworthy “first,” comes an unnoteworthy one as well. In this context, by “unnoteworthy,” I do not mean the moments that are so trivial that we overlook them, but rather, the memories that we purposely avoid in hopes that we not be reminded of them. Unfortunately, as the nature of the mind would have it, memories oftentimes find their way back to the conscious — just as my most terrifying “first” experience had for quite some time. Growing up an only child, I was constantly told by my parents how handsome I was. Over time, my “handsomeness” became a facet of my personality. No matter where I went or whom I would meet, my sense of confidence remained unfettered. This remained true even on my first day here at Plymouth State. Not only did I become easily acquainted with the campus, but my new roommates and I quickly became good friends, and I even met the most impressive girl on campus. Her name was not important because we all called her “Barbie.” She was what I perceived to be the female prototype. She was a college senior, well beyond puberty, and very athletic. Best of all, she wanted me. Only two weeks into the semester, and she and I were hitting first base daily. Every chance she would get-be it in janitors’ closets, the hallways, or empty classrooms…she would kiss me like I had never felt it done before. After every session, I was left utterly mesmerized. By December, I wanted more. Nonetheless, Barbie would not put out, and as spring semester began, I grew tired of the routine and started to distance myself from her. On the Friday before spring break, a classmate of mine was throwing a party, and everyone was invited. Unsurprisingly, Barbie was at the party as well and her looks alone lured me back in. Somehow, the two of us found ourselves in an upstairs bedroom. Almost immediately, Barbie began to remove her articles of clothing and for the first time in my life, my confidence was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, I was experiencing what I felt were convulsions, due to what I thought was a panic attack. It took only a moment, however, to realize that I could not be any more wrong. “Wow,” sneered Barbie, as she removed herself from the bed and quickly grabbed her clothing. I did not even have to look down. I could feel it. I had “finished” before we could actually begin. Luckily for me, Barbie graduated a few months later, and even more by chance, it seemed that she had not said a word to anybody regarding my performance, or lack thereof. I have since then become the poster-boy for improvement. Three years, too many girlfriends, and over 20 partners later– I think it is safe to say that practice most certainly does make perfect.
Have a scandalous story but are not quite sure how to tell it? Please email me at: domonique.chaplin@gmail.com OR dnchaplin@mail.plymouth.edu. ALL accounts are anonymous.