Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll

We slept together—literally.

I spent the night in his oversized T-shirt in his undersized bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why it was spinning, his soft laughter in my ears when I shared with him my wonder. 

He acted like a complete gentleman that night, despite the fact that I wanted him to be anything but that at the time.

At 21 and newly single, I had fallen into a pattern of discovery.

I was finally free to discover just who I was and what I wanted to do, with the answer shifting as quickly as the company I kept. New friends, new experiences—I was finally free to discover that I didn’t need to know, that I could choose my own adventure.

Most nights were spent at the bar—working first, playing second—short shorts and long nights. I countered my good girl image with a raw sexuality and harmless flirting that left them confused and intrigued, not unlike myself at that point. I was getting culture—bar culture—and discovering more every night.

He was a local celebrity of sorts, a regular at the bar and a bit older than me. Our love of sports and sarcasm made us fast friends. I was invited to game-day parties and cookouts, making new friends and no plans, discovering the fun in spontaneity and Stoli.

That day was hot and full of cool drinks, more than I could count. There was hummus and things on the campfire, pitchers of drinks that fueled guitars and singing and dance.

To this day I still associate the last song I remember hearing them play as I sat around the campfire, a bottomless glass in my hand and a fuzzy recollection of time—The Rolling Stones, no less. 

The ride home is a blur, as is much of that night, but I know where I ended up last. In his oversized T-shirt in his undersized bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why it was spinning, his soft laughter in my ears when I shared with him my wonder.

He acted like a complete gentleman that night, despite the fact that I wanted him to be anything but that at the time.

Yes, the first time I slept with a man after sleeping with someone so wrong for so long, I learned a little about sex, drugs and rock and roll.


(Even if you don’t know it at the time.)

This trip down memory lane was in response to the Red Dress Club RemebeRED prompt:

The first time I _____ after ________.

How would you fill in the blank?

21 responses to “Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll

  1. Now that was fun.
    When you first said “oversized T-shirt…wonder” I imaged an inexperienced girl and her boyfriend: high school girl on an illicit sleepover, college Freshman in a boy’s dorm room. But once you built back up to the repeat? I got that it was much more than that.
    Always love your TRDC linkups, my dear.

  2. You could have posted a recipe for bundt cake, but you had me hooked with the title.

    I liked your in between feeling of wanting to be bad but needing to be good. I’ve been there so many times. Good writing Abby. I enjoyed every word.

  3. I’m telling your mother.

  4. This made me smile. Just wanted you to know!

  5. lovely, lovely writing my dear.

  6. I loved it, and completely agree.

  7. I read this in the car this morning and just kept nodding my head.
    Yes, I thought this is exactly how it was at that age…exactly how it feels to be back in the game, to remember those heady times of youth.

    I just loved the way you wrote it, the words were perfect.

  8. First time I ate a brownie after being plagued with an effed up eating disorder. I was in a restuarant with my dietitan and the five other girls from my treatment center. We went out to eat every tuesday and you could order dessert if you wanted and didn’t have to have your afternoon snack back at the center if you did.
    So I ordered the most delicious chocolate caramel brownie and devoured every last crumb.
    For the first time in a long time, I was like, “Damn, calories are underrated”.

  9. This is a great entry. I’m always impressed at how you are able to get so much across in so few words. I need to work on that! You captured this transitional time so well…it made me remember a similar time I spent deciding where my boundaries were. Thank God the guy I was dating at the time was also a gentleman.

    As an aside, I’ve never understood the “sleep with” euphemism for sex. I have a post brewing that will touch on that (sleep is one of MY issues).

  10. I’m too scared to revisit my 20’s, but somehow alcohol always landed me into someone’s arms, but I love that you had the Gentleman factor.

  11. Lovely memory of change and transformation, wondering and discovering.

    I adore the short snippets, the full circle from beginning to ending, and of course the lesson/ title.

  12. I want to go back to college, this post just reminded me of so many good times (well the ones I can remember at least) I worked at a restaurant in college and a bunch of us would get together on random days like Tuesdays, day driny, play games, cookout and party, it was grand.

    Great post!!

  13. whoa! i have to echo an above commenter…so much in so few words. abby you are GOOOOOOD. i wish i could sit down with you and a tea and get more deets and share some of mine….would be fun.

    damn i loved the first 6 months of COLLEGE.

    no idea on the fill in the blank…i’ll keep thinking but not too hard. so don’t expect anything.

  14. For some reason, this line: In his oversized T-shirt in his undersized bed

    absolutely hit me and made this piece really strike a chord with me. I love how your details and imagery evoked that combination of discovery and spontaneity and caution and lack of caution that make for really special memories.

    And Stoli…how I loved flavored Stoli and thought it was such an adult drink.

  15. Perfect gentlemen are so sneaky! I don’t know about you, but after I night like that I might be bold enough to go back sober.

  16. I love this! I love the word play with oversized and undersized and the repetition and the analogy between how the men felt about your flirting and how you felt about yourself. Well done! Visiting from TRDC

  17. You and I think similarly (be very afraid). Not only do we stop recycling when in a peevish state but I wrote a while back about how losing power makes me go mad…in the crazy sense.

    Great post…I enjoyed it!!

    • Trust me when I say that it deserves a post of it’s own, as I go absolutely ape shit. My mom can testify to the fact that if my house were swept up in a tornado but power was kept in tact, I would be calmer than if it was firmly rooted to the foundation but powerless.

  18. Ah, good times….young and free.

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