When I was 20, I thought I was sexually knowledgeable. After all, I'd spent the previous 4 years involved in two long term relationships and had a lot of sex with those boys. Those two had a lot in common; both virgins when we started, smarter than average, a little bit geeky/nerdy, and both wound up being obsessive in a crazy and guilt-inducing way. As I came to find out though, a lot of bad sex doesn't equal much of anything when it comes down to it.
Then I met a man.
J and I worked together one summer. He was very smart, very funny, very sexy, very married and 10 years older than me. We had an instant rapport from the moment we met, but the fact that he was married made him completely off limits as far as I was concerned. Still, we spent a summer getting to know one another's minds pretty well and I was definitely sadly and wistfully smitten by the time I had to go back to college.
The last thing I said to him before I went back to school was, "Call me when you're divorced." I was mostly joking.
Six months later, I get the call. Three days after that, I went to see him. And shortly after that is when I started learning what good sex is (for me, at least).