This is an honest telling of my first time, with all of the quirks and less-than-fantasy details. It is told from my memory of how I was thinking while it happened. I have tried to capture the awkwardness and the innocence as I remember it. For the record, we were both seniors in university… 21 years old.
Janelle was an art major, and I was an electrical engineering major. We were a good contrasting pair. Both of us had never had a serious relationship before. She was from Canada, a child of Dutch immigrants. I was from Arizona, with no strong heritage except suburban American desert life. Janelle was an artist through and through. She wore round leather shoes, argyle socks, plaid pants, rugby shirts, and homemade scarves and hats.
She came from a family five sisters. All were platinum blonde, tall and very European looking, except for her. She was beautiful in a quiet, unassuming, organic way. Her hair was brown, her eyes were brown, she was medium height, with wide womanly hips and a slight pook in her belly. Her face was kind and sweet, with wrinkles of good humor creased into the corners of her eyes.