Being in high school is not what I thought it would be. So, for lack of a better introduction, which none of you will read, here is my image of how I thought I would lose the big 'V' in middle school, compared to my realistic, modern version.

 

Imagined Version: 

I pull up to Craig Jacksons' house in my new car, Sixteenth birthday present-silver Acura. The party is in full swing, which is weird, 'cause I just got there. Billy's passed out at the door, with dicks drawn on his face, classic Billy. I walk in the door, greeted by yells that drown out the music, heavy on the bass. High fives from the guys and hugs from my lady friends. I have so many girls wrapped around me Tiger Woods would be jealous. My girlfriend, Katie, is waiting for me upstairs, I got a text from her earlier saying to meet her there. She's in Craigs' room. Jordan has a spare beer waiting for me on the base of the staircase. Jordan Dyler. Still trying to make up for the time he punched me in the stomach so hard I shit my pants in the fourth grade. I go into the room. Katie's waiting for me on the bed, naked, eagle spread. I'm about to get laid as sure as you have have a boner right now. I put a condom on my dick which only looks kind of small, but gets totally bigger, like, totally, you just have to wait.

And then, magic happens all night long.  

Realistic Version: 

I'm 28. I'm driving back to my apartment with her in the passenger seat of the car I rented to make her think that I actually have a car. I drive about twenty blocks from the restaurant to my run-down, city apartment. We get to my apartment, dodging the landlord, as I owe a few months rent. I open the door quietly, my roommate might be asleep from last night, I don't wanna wake him up. He threw a party for him and all of his 23 year old friends. It sounded fun. He asked me to stay in my room for the night. It's cool. I needed to anyway, I had to re-arrange my dresser. We go into my room. She lays down on the bed. And I pull out my wallet.

And you all know what comes out of the wallet right before sex, right?

The money, about three or four hundred. Gets me about two hours with her. Oh, and the condom. I put it on as she tries to keep a straight face. She opens her legs and I put it in. It feels great. I keep thrusting at an uneven pace for what feels like an eternity. I finally climax. I ask how long that was. She says about thirty seconds, with a very stoic, unsatisfied face. I start to cry and ask the hooker to leave. I start to think about what my life has been, working for that dick Mr. Dyler, dropping out of community college. And my mind drifts off to that summer at camp when I was fifteen, and how I regret messing up my friendship with Sarah Thatcher by telling her how I really felt. My whole life could have changed that day. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Ah well, least i'm not a virgin anymore. What's on TV? Ah damn it. Another presidential state of the union address on every channel, talking about the over-population of polar bears and the war with Robo-Hitler. I didn't even vote for President Snooki…