The peculiar thing about visiting my hometown is that my most recent (and thus most vivid) memories circle around the time between my sixteenth and nineteenth years. The peculiar thing about that is that those years revolved around sex. I hesitate, now, to bring a man back to Florida because I'm afraid that the tour would, unknowingly, consist almost entirely of "I almost had sex over there"-type sightseeing. This way of looking at things is especially astounding because I had only ever slept with three boys in Pinellas County, and only two of them more than once.
This was brought to my attention while driving around with Sarah. "Hey, I lost my virginity over there."
"Over -there-? In the -Icot- center? By the ice skating rink?"
"Well, no...a couple parking lots away from the ice skating rink."
By the end of the afternoon, she was vowing never to enter a park or stick around too long in a parking lot with me, which I suppose is only fair. But I do have to puzzle over why it is that I remember things this way.
Actually, had I realized at the time that I would think back on those years in terms of who I wanted to sleep with, who I should have slept with, and where I slept with the ones that I -did- do it with, I'd have gotten around a lot more. It feels today like I wasted a lot of time being picky, time that would have been better spent giving myself a youth worth remembering, a reputation I had earned, or at least some good tricks to be recycled now.
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