The time I lost my virginity to "Welcome to the Terrordome"

- HumanityCritic

Listen, I say a lot of wild shit on twitter, I acknowledge this. But the problem with saying outlandish things on that particular social media platform is that people tend to think that you're kidding when you couldn't be more serious. For example, I relayed to my twitter followers that I told my therapist that I only have "fear of death" panic attacks when I masturbate. Sure, it got some chuckles, but it happened to be the absolute truth. (I've have indeed, on more than one occasion, ran out of the room with my dick in my hand while hyperventilating as Jazmine Cashmere gave the performance of a lifetime on my computer screen.) Another true story that people thought was just me trying to be funny was the time I inserted my very unimpressive penis inside of a woman in the bathroom at my father's wake.(I was in desperate need of consoling.) Again, people thought that an incident that forced my sweet mother to momentarily interrupt her sobbing just to say "Boy, why do you smell like pussy?" was made up out of thin air. Again, that happened.

But the one story people really have a hard time believing is that I lost my virginity to the Public Enemy song "Welcome to the Terrordome". Yes, that really happened as well. If I'm being technical about it, if basic penetration means that you've popped your proverbial cherry, then I actually lost my virginity when I was 13. But I feel weird counting that since it was only a quarter of a stroke, and I'm still up in the air about which orifice the little guy down there wound up exploring. In my room, right before I had to go to track practice, during my Junior year of High School, is when a cute light-skinned girl named "Jane" ushered me into manhood. Here is some background:

For a virgin, I sure talked a whole bunch of shit that made me seem like a grizzled veteran in the fine art of pelvic thrusting. "Jane", who had been on the receiving end of the aforementioned shit talking and fictitious accounts of my sexual exploits decided to call my bluff one day. "Ok, I'll be at your house at 2:30 today. Be ready for me!" Immediately beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I even think my left arm got numb for a moment. But because my desire to accomplish sexual completion in something other than crumpled pieces of tissue paper outweighed the possibility of me sexually under-performing, I decided to go through with it.

Because my grandmother lived with my family, and always sat in the front window watching people all day, getting "Jane's" fine ass into the house was something out of "Oceans 11". She had to park her car down the street, quietly come through the front door that I left ajar for her as I distracted my grandmother at the back of the house - all the while I'm not so subtly giving "Jane" directional hand signals, kind of like cops give each other as they are searching a house for a suspect. I eventually make my way up to my room to meet "Jane" for our scheduled tryst, her hopping on me and passionately kissing me the moment I entered the room - truly stuff straight out of a John Hughes movies. After minutes of making out and dry humping that could cause a wildfire, she asks "Do you have any condoms." Of course I did, because I was the type of virgin that had condoms by the boatload - confidently knowing that any day my world would be flooded with various types of exotic vagina. What arrogance.

So before we start she demands, "Put on some music!". I'd like to say that I didn't own any traditional mood music, or that what I wound up playing was already in my radio's tape player - but no - getting my first unadulterated fuck on to Public Enemy's "Welcome to the Terrordome" was completely a conscious choice. After she giggled because she thought I was joking, and after that smile faded to garden variety bewilderment when she realized that I was dead ass serious - that's when the magic started to happen. And by "magic", I mean telling her that I had a back injury just so she could ride me - saving me from the embarrassment of clumsily playing the "Is it in?" game. I wish I could brag about how long I lasted, but if I did I'd be lying. Go listen to the song "Welcome to the Terrordome" - I started convulsing, making the "Oh!" face, and curing my toes around the same time Chuck D says "Hear my favoritism roll "Oh"/ Never be a brother like me go solo." To her credit "Jane" was very nice about it all, kindly lied to me about wanting to see me again, and as far as I know never told anyone that I clumsily came faster than a "Biggie is the greatest MC of all time" argument.

So yeah, if my future girlfriend or wife is reading this, there isn't anything disturbing to take away from me playing a Public Enemy song during sex. No deeper meaning about what kind of sex I participate in because of that experience, nothing like that. Just know that I may occasionally fuck you to some wildly inappropriate shit. If I on M.O.P's "Ground Zero", or Rakim's "Microphone Fiend" - just go with it. I'm still that sweet guy that you fell in love with.