My First Time Stories #8

This is a "thought bubble". It is an...

So, tonight was my last writing class.  I have been wracking my brain about what the last first time story would be.  I thought about what fun I had the first plane ride I remember.  I was young and at that time my parents felt like I had to be dressed up to travel.  I had on a dress, patent leather shoes and my hair in two neat ponytails with ribbons.  I remember running up and down the aisles of the plane with all the other kids aboard.

I thought about writing about my first time away from home.  I was in Brooklyn at my Godmother’s house.  I had no appetite.  I really missed my parents.  I had just gotten a new baby sister, I think.  It was summer time.  There were a bunch of us kids playing with a hose on the balcony.  Someone got my hair wet.  I was MAD! I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I want to go home right now.  Right Now THIS MINUTE to My Mother!” To this day I can’t go for a visit with my Godmother without their being a re-telling of this story.

Brooklyn Bridge

Brooklyn Bridge (Photo credit: akibubblet)

Someone suggested I write about my first time having a roommate.  I suppose the first time was in my college dorm.  I got there first.  So, I got to pick what side of the room I wanted.  I FILLED my side of the wall with Essence Magazine covers I’d been saving.  I also hung a huge poster of a topless muscular beautiful black man with locs (whom I actually met one late night in a diner in NYC.  I,  like, totally  “groupied out” and gushed to him that he was on my wall.  He was polite but I bet he couldn’t wait to escape me.)

Essence (magazine)

But then I thought about my first apartment grown up roommate.  She was a singer.  We were both at NYU for grad school.  She was often late with the rent if gigging was slow.  Her Bible thumping parents hated that I dated women.  I found this hilarious since the fridge was FILLED with beer when they came to visit and they ran in and out of the house going to smoke cigarettes on the stoop non-stop.  How Christ like.  She also seemed both paranoid that any woman who visited me was looking at her AND upset that they indeed were not.  That is when she wasn’t arguing with her rich boyfriend whom she broke up with bi-weekly despite him saying horribly racist things to her.  Rooming with her was horrible for way too many reasons to list.  Let’s just say I’ve never had a roommate that wasn’t a partner in NYC again.  I also never saw her again until I took my parents for their first Broadway show.  She had snagged a lead on The Great White Way!  I was truly happy for her.

in New York City

Then I thought to myself:  Self, you’re going to be getting back to writing about women, empowerment and sexy fun stuff.  So, I thought maybe I’ll blog about how in nursery school I figured out somehow during nap time how to bring myself to the big O without actually touching myself.  Somehow, a slow drag up ye ole nap mat with the right amount of pressure would do the trick.  I loved nap time.  But writing about that would be too embarrassing.  So, I’m not going to write about any of those things.  We’ll just be getting back to our regularly scheduled program next week 😀

A bag with a smiley face design that bids the ...

Big Thank You’s to those of you who e-mailed me your first time stories.  It was really fun reading them!     Maybe we can do another topic share in the future, maybe?  Whatcha think?

Hugs, Essence

ESSENCE REVEALED – Essence Revealed is first generation Bajan born & raised in Boston.  She got her BFA at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and MA at NYU’s Steinhardt School of Education.  Her writing has appeared places such as $pread Magazine, Corset Magazine, and 21st Century Burlesque.  She now performs & teaches nationally and internationally both solo and as a member of Brown Girls Burlesque.  Her favorite thing to do besides reading is to lay on the beach in Barbados to rest up for a night of calypso dancing.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s