I stumbled across a blog called My First Time. While the most recent post was about parents getting divorced and therefore a bit too depressing for a foggy Tuesday, it is still a great project and got me thinking. Thinking about my firsts. Not the too obvious ones like kisses, dates and loves, but some more and admittedly random ones, which are however memorable in my life.
My first time I bought pair of shoes which cost more than $100. A lot more actually. I saw them on a lady I worked for in New York and had to have them. I played a game of tug and war over my credit card with the sales assistant. He won and I asked: “What’s your return policy?” Apparently they do not appreciate this question at Barney’s. Unfortunately for my credit card it was a first, but not a last.
Arts & Culture
My first time I remembered a French phrase without seeing it written up on a blackboard. Fais de beaux rèves. It took only five nights. My Dad always taught me the best way to learn a language is to be in bed with a native speaker. Always listen to your father.
My first time I realized communication is vital in any relationship was in Malta. I was 13, he was 15. I spoke English and German, he spoke Maltese and Italian. A relationship can only go so far when you are forced to look into each other’s eyes all day without saying a piep. That may be for a girl at least. We like to talk.
My first interview was with an actor who was the lead in my home town theatre. I had a major crush on him and decided interviewing him for our school paper was the perfect way to get close to him. Not sure what the catholic, all girls, nun school would have thought if they knew I was just using the school paper as an excuse to get to shag the local celebrity. Not that that ever happened, but a girl could dream.
My first time I was trying to drive from town to Claremont ended at the airport. Don’t ask. N2 and M3 turn offs are confusing to newbies. I ended up seeing the Springboks in their team bus though. That made for a reasonable excuse to any guy who didn’t know me better. “Yes, I looove the Springboks. In fact I drove all the way to the airport to wave them goodbye.”
My first letter I wrote to my mother was written in pencil on my pink Hello Kitty note pad. She was visiting a friend for a weekend and I was devastated she was leaving me alone. I put on a brave face and wrote: “Dear Mummy, don’t be so sad that you are leaving, you will be back soon.” I put two of my favourite stickers on it, stuck it in a little ink cartridge box from my fountain pen and added two of my milk teeth. I think the teeth were quite a big deal - since I was giving them to her, I couldn’t give them to the tooth fairy ergo no present for me. Also my first time of true selflessness.
My first time I taught yoga went actually not so bad. Except my sweet Germanican accent managed to say ‘use your breasts*to massage your stomach’. Which would be quite an accomplishment if you think about it. If you want to have a good laugh in a yoga class, come to mine. I still say it at times.
*Breaths was actually what I was trying to say.
My first time I bought a vibrator. My flatmate and I realized the only place where shops are open on a Sunday afternoon is on the Reeperbahn. In the attempt to be discreet the shop put our ‘products’ in an unlabeled black bag. We then realized that every shop on the Reeperbahn does the same. Open secret I call it. We realized that too late though and only when a bouncer in front of a strip club shouted: “Honey, did you get batteries as well?”
Gotta love firsts. And then luckily you live and hopefully learn.