Part 1: A stranger on the balcony
It was a summer abroad in Dublin. It had been four months since I parted with my ex — the man I thought was the love of my life. I got accepted into a summer semester at an Irish-American college. I landed in a foreign, green land with butterflies in my stomach and a semi-stitched heart. On my bucket list was to see the old castles, hike the cliffs, and learn to Irish dance. No more sadness.
He was living in the Georgian-style hostel that I was staying at. Dark hair, tanned skin, dark eyes framed with glasses. The first time I saw him, I was lying on my bed wearing nothing but panties and a t-shirt. He was smoking below my balcony. I realized I was in full view of him when our eyes met. Laughing at the awkwardness, I waved while trying to smooth my disheveled hair. He smiled and waved back. We didn’t actually speak face-to-face until two weeks later.
I had just made myself tea from the dining room and was on my way back to my room when I bumped into him in the corridor. Awkwardly, we both introduced ourselves. He offhandedly made a comment about how his roommate was sleeping, but he couldn’t sleep. Before I could stop myself, I asked him if he wanted to hang out in my room. To my surprise, he said yes. My head was filled with shock and excitement over what I just did. On my bed, we soon talked about why we were here in Dublin. He was from Sicily, looking for work with his degree in economics. I was an English literature major from Canada, looking to explore more of Europe and study more Irish classics. All of a sudden, he brought up the fact that he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. Perfect, I thought to myself. “Do you want to make out?” I asked. He answered with his lips. My heart was pounding. A part of me was dancing with joy because it had been a while since I felt aroused. Yet a part of me was also hesitating. I was still, by heteronormative standards, a “virgin.” Despite having performed other sexual acts, my ex and I parted before we could get to that. I didn’t have any other experience besides that. What if he didn’t like what he saw? Didn’t I still want the whole romantic setting for my first time? How could I be intimate after my break up? How could I not?
“W-Wait… I’m a virgin.”
We were both silent.I went for the buckle of his belt. I hate to disappoint, but I didn’t technically have “my first time” that night. We did make each other come though.
I wasn’t completely ready. When I was ready, it was with an Irish guy. That will be the next part of the story.
However, that first night ignited a small flame in me — something I hadn’t felt in a while. I was done being a celibate zombie —
I was back.
Photo by Natalie Thien