It was senior year of high school and I was just learning about sex. My boyfriend at the time, Chris, and I were both extremely inexperienced. We had lost our virginities to each other, and were also both in the same health class in tenth grade where the lady who was supposed to come from Planned Parenthood to teach us how to put on condoms mysteriously failed to show.
Learning about sex and the dos and don’ts was not only an uphill battle, but it was a blindfolded uphill battle. Despite our inexperience and some technical difficulties, nothing could calm our raging teenage hormones, so we took every opportunity we could to touch each other and explore our sexual boundaries.
Chris and I were at senior after-prom, where many of the seniors in my grade went to the trashiest part of Seaside Heights, New Jersey, rented out an entire motel, and drank our livers away for a weekend. I got too high and fell asleep on the beach for four hours without sunscreen. My friend got a henna tattoo on her face days before graduation. A kid in my AP Literature class threw up all over his girlfriend’s car.
We were (collectively) what you would call a hot mess.
In our drunken states, Chris and I were desperate to get away to do the dirty deed. We snuck off to his motel room that he was sharing with four of his friends while everyone else was at the beach and chain-locked the door.
It was a hot day at the end of June, and our bodies were slick with sweat from the heat as well as our nerves that were only slightly calmed by alcohol. Clothes were flying off, and Chris, being the sexual novice that he was at the time, struggled (but was eventually successful in) unclasping my bra. Eventually he got the condom on, and we awkwardly adjusted ourselves so he would be on top, because in those days, that was the only position we could last in. Things were going pretty well.
And then the door started rattling. The bottom lock clicked, leaving only the chain lock holding the door closed.
“Guys, let us in!” One of Chris’s friends, Jake, who was also staying in the room, was trying to open the door. He pushed at the door, yanking the chain tight. We didn’t realize that they’d be back from the beach so soon. ! In a frenzy, I hopped off of Chris and he whipped the condom off. We started pulling our clothes back on. I ran into the bathroom to cover myself and finish dressing while Chris opened the door to let his friends in.
Chris and I were calm, cool and collected, although everyone could tell what we’d been up to considering a) how sweaty we were and b) the massive hickey that had begun forming on his neck.
All of Chris’s friends had come back to the room, and we were hanging out and drinking on the motel beds, laughing and talking. All of a sudden, Jake and Chris’s other friend Max started laughing for seemingly no reason. It could have been because they were drunk, but it didn’t seem like it. I gave them a look.
“What?” I asked.
Max pointed behind me and Chris, to the motel wall. In our rush to get off of one another, Chris had flung the condom in a random direction, and it had stuck to the wall, displaying itself in all its floppy, latex glory.
His friends never let us live it down.