Oh there was Terry Shannon, that sweet thing with the wonderful dimples and the plaid green outfit. I loved her so … until she moved out of Huntington Beach forever after 2nd grade.
Oh there was Miss Hall, my school teacher who noticed how nice I was, and made sure I was in her class in grammar school.
And yes – there was a high school crush … with every tight-short wearing girl who would distract me from my studies, due to my over-reactive post-puberty hormones.
But there was no other love that was more consistent, affectionate or loyal than the truest of true loves … my heavy orange blanket.
So many times, I would drag that heavy thing out into the living room so that I could have it wrap around me while I laid on the floor on a Saturday night and watched Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart and if I could stay awake Carol Burnett.
It wasn’t like I was Linus from Peanuts or anything. I didn’t go to school with it. I didn’t carry it around. In fact, I had no trouble being apart from it. But I sure enjoyed my time when at home, at night, especially when the lights went out.
Now some may not agree with our love. They may think it silly, juvenile or perhaps even inappropriate. And others may think I was too young at the time. I do not care. I am proud of our connection and realize that though we were years apart in age (I was around 10, and it was only about 3 I guess), our love was true.
So true was this love in fact, that I must admit, for the first time here, that it was this blanket that helped me lose my virginity. Yes, it’s true.
A young lad, with raging sexual energy, even at my very young age, I had to experiment somewhere. What better place than with my orange blanket that knew just how to reach the right places.
The ritual went like this: I would hold the blanket between my legs and then slowly pull up on it so that it bunched up closer to my face. In the process it would rub against the underside of what would someday be called my “dick.” WHY DIDN’T ANYONE tell me how sensitive the underside of a member was? Though I guess it would be even weirder if they did.
So as a young man, I imagine you discover sex as it comes. And you do so in your own way, whether someone guides you in some form of education or not.
For me it was me and my orange blanket. Though our relationship didn’t last for that long, our time together was awesome. At first, as the amazing feelings arose from down under, I simply enjoyed what would be akin to a very intense tickle. But then our relations progressed, and we went to the next level. Second base? One mysterious time, as that blanket was rubbing against me, I was astonished to discover some crazy thick liquid discharge from my dick. I thought, “Oh no, what the hell is this? Did I hurt myself?”
Of course, there was no one to ask. Our love relationship was a secret to everyone (you are the first to hear of this), so I had to be alone in this exploration and confusion. Later on as time progressed, I noticed that the head of my dick was changing, as the underside part slowly started to stretch towards the tip, as if the underside skin was being rubbed away. “OH NO!” I thought. “I broke it.” I was truly aghast thinking I had messed up my member forever.
Could this mean it was the end? Does this mean our relationship must be curtailed?
Such was the confusing, amazing, scary, enticing, exciting times I had as a young one with the first true partner in life.
in time we both moved on. I learned that I hadn’t broken my dick. I learned that the changes of its shape was normal. I was educated about ejaculate, also known as “cum,” which was a typical discharge that shot out of a penis after it was pleasured enough. And I would begin to look upon females as a surrogate replacement.
I look back now fondly, and somewhat still ashamed for some reason, on these early days with my blanket.
But they are there, as they are for any boy who must explore the ways of sexual energy, his body, his penis and … his love.