My first time wasn’t, as popular songs might have it, in the back seat of a car, or in the tall grass behind the bleachers, or under the boardwalk.

No, the momentous event took place in a much less romantic location – my boyfriend’s room. He shared a nice house in a Northern Virginia suburb with three other guys, lots of stereo equipment, a drum set (his), and a couple of bass amps (his roommate’s).

We met through friends when I was nineteen. James was my second serious boyfriend; the first was a high school romance that ended along with graduation.

At first, I didn’t like him. We dated, drifted apart, dated again.

I finally decided (with a little convincing from James) that It Was Time. Time to go from our semi-sort-of, kind-of dating thing, and enter into a Real Relationship. At twenty, it was way past time for me to finally Become a Woman. 

I decided early on that I wanted the first time to be… well, special.  Maybe not saving-myself-for-the-wedding-night special (I might die before that ever happened, after all), but I wanted it to mean something. And I wanted my first time to mean something to him.

Oh, I knew all about the mechanics of sex; I’d read Fear of Flying by Erica Jong, hadn’t I? How hard (pardon the pun) could a physical relationship be? 

But when it actually came to doing the deed, reading about it and reality were two entirely different things.

James was a computer nerd with an offbeat sense of humor.  He looked like David Tennant. (I know, I know. How lucky can a girl get?)

We shared an obsession for Monty Python, electronics (he showed me how to assemble circuit boards for a home-built equalizer – how geeky is that?), and reading (du Maurier’s The House on the Strand and Jamaica Inn and Tolkien’s The Hobbit, in particular). Unlike my first boyfriend, he didn’t belittle my desire to write; in fact, he encouraged me to pursue my dream.

That alone was reason enough to fall in love with him.

Since it was my birthday, James took me to a nice restaurant to celebrate (bottle of wine included). The seduction commenced. By the time we left the restaurant (one of those fake-British steak places with lots of fireplaces and plaid carpets), I was relaxed and ready to finally make the leap and take our relationship to the next level.

He was responsible, and took care to use protection. He was patient and attentive. And although the experience was a good one, I remember thinking afterwards, what’s all the fuss about? Is this it? Seriously?

When all was said and done, our first time together was… okay. Nice, even. But contrary to Carole King, the earth didn’t move. It was mostly awkward, and weird, and somewhere between embarrassing and funny (sorry, James, but you know it was.) Nevertheless, it was special. I guess the first time always is, no matter how awkward or how wrong things might go.

We were together for almost two years. But our relationship gradually began to deteriorate, and the arguments became more heated; mostly because he worked long hours, and spent Friday nights drinking with his coworkers, which I resented. According to him, I had become a possessive harpy (which, to be fair, I probably had).

I was quite the drama queen back then. Ultimatums were issued. Doors were slammed. 

But James refused to engage. His parents argued so much when he was growing up, he explained, that he couldn’t stand conflict. Instead, he’d shut down and grow silent. Meanwhile, I would simmer and seethe. It didn’t make for a good combination.

So we drifted apart. I started seeing someone else, and James relocated his job and left the area.

Still, I think of him sometimes… whenever I watch an episode of Monty Python, or when I catch a glimpse of one of the worn copies of The House on the Strand or Jamaica Inn on my bookshelf. I’m very glad my first time was with him, and not some sawdust-brained, high school football jock.

So wherever you are, James, and whoever you’re with, I wish you well, and I thank you. You put up with my rampant twenty-something insecurities; you made me laugh; you introduced me to the music of Supertramp and Little Feat and Alan Parsons; and you gave me a first time that always makes me smile.

And for that, I’ll never forget you.