“Ladies and gents, lovers and haters, sinners and saints,” I croon into the microphone, same as always, “it’s that time of the week again. Thursday, just twenty-four hours away from trading florescent lighting and stale coffee for sunshine and beer. You’ve got Mr. XO here and tonight’s theme is First Time and Time Again, a not so subtle reference to one of my favorite authors, Jack Finney, at least when it comes to time travel. Which is as appropriate a segue into tonight’s topic as any.”

I pause for effect, keeping the listeners wondering. Most of the time, the punny names for my show are so on the nose, the listener would have to be brain-dead not to get it. Sometimes, I’m a bit esoteric, like tonight.

“I want all of you dear listeners to step back in time with me tonight. Filter past all those one-night stands and unfortunate choices made while the beer goggles were still firmly on, and think about your first time. Now, I need you to fast forward to that time when you were someone else’s first time. Tonight, Sex on the Line is playing both sides. So call in and tell me all about those flowers plucked, cherries popped, and V-cards officially handed over.”

The calls start up immediately.

“While my lovely assistant Donna handles your calls, I’ll start by saying I’m no novice when it comes to either side of this see-saw. On the one side, well, let’s just say that I unfortunately have etched in my brain the poster of Justin Timberlake that stared down at me as a certain classmate of mine, from somewhere in upstate New York, handled my introduction into manhood.”

In reality, it was a poster of Pete Wentz (for fuck’s sake) from the group Fallout Boy, but there’s no need to out Jessica Dayne like that.

“As for the other side…well, for personal reasons I’m curious to learn a thing or two from you, dear listener. Perhaps I can improve upon the last few times. So let’s get started!”

“…I mean a car. Really? It was fun and all—until the security guard on campus drove by. From there it was like something out of The Three Stooges. I was focused solely on getting dressed, grabbing my clothes to put them back on. He, thankfully, had a more rational frame of mind. He literally jumped from the back seat to the front, totally naked, and fumbled to get the key into the ignition while the guard is stepping out of his little golf cart with his flashlight to, at best give us a warning, and at worst…well, I might be on the sex offenders list right now. Thank God my boyfriend at the time had more sense than me. Still, it was funny watching him run a bunch of red lights in his birthday suit while I’m still trying to, for whatever reason, buckle my sandals. Wherever you are, ‘John’, you are my savior! At any rate, at least the deed got done.”

“…literally a sock on the door. I kept thinking that his jerk of a roommate would just walk in, but he assured me that he was studying for some O-chem test and we had the room to ourselves. Or should I say the bunk bed, because that’s what it was. Still, it was sweet and all. I’m glad he was my first. I’ve definitely moved on to better and, yes, bigger, since then.”

“…Tight. Too tight. You think, virgin, and it’s all like, ‘Cool! I’ll be the first!’ I mean, hell, she has no one to compare me too, right? For that night at least, I’ll be a fucking god. Just…don’t. Anyone listening, trust me. It ain’t worth it. All this build up, and she kept looking at me like I actually was God. Talk about performance anxiety. I don’t need to be this page on her mental scrapbook of life. I only agreed because…well, sex, duh! Totally, not worth it. I mean, yes, I may have only been at half-mast, but that’s her fault, not mine. Normally, I kick ass in bed!”

“…awkward. There’s no other way to explain it. And trust me, I did my homework. Joy of Sex has a whole chapter dedicated to it. As long as you’re lubricated, it’s supposed to be okay. In sum…no. And don’t even get me started on romance novels. They should, like, be banned or something. Seriously, it’s one of those things you have to actually experience to know just how awful it is. I’m sooo glad I never have to experience my first time again.”

“…I did everything right. Rose petals on the bed. Some bullshit Michael-Bolton-slash-Celene-Dion crap on the iPod. Candles. You know the deal. So we get down to it and…no lift off, if you catch my drift. I’m sittin’ there staring at the thing, wanting to fucking punch it in the face, except it’s already dead. I mean, she was cool about it and everything but talk about a blow to the ego. It musta been the stress and all that pressure leading up to it.”

“My little sister’s babysitter. She was eighteen and I was fifteen. Was it illegal? Probably. But hell if it wasn’t the best fucking violation of the law I’ve ever experienced. Going twenty over the speed limit has nothing on her once she finally took that bra off. I’d been crushing on her since they first moved in down the street. She had tits for days and always wore these crazy-ass colors on her nails, like neon green or bright blue or glitter or some shit. But back to the tits—good Lord! Even after about a hundred fucks later, she’s still at least top five, hands down.”

“…I just wanted it out of the way, you know. He didn’t even know at first. But he was the captain of the football team. I figured he could induct me properly. Then he’s going down on me and, yes it was awesome. I reciprocated because, well…that’s all I’ve done until then, and not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty good at it. So we’re all good to go and I finally say to myself, ‘what the hell’, and I tell him. And, get this, the fucker bails! Doesn’t do virgins, apparently. What the fuck is that misogynist bullshit?”

“…It was so sweet. He took me to Olive Garden. Olive Garden! Then he bought me some earrings and a top at Forever 21. I mean, how awesome is that?! Then we shared a Sprinkles cupcake, chocolate marshmallow, my favorite! Seriously, I can’t wait to marry him! I mean the actual…sex, well, it was…weird. But I figure it’s something we can work on, ya know?”

Nothing about tonight’s calls is what anyone would call, inspiring. I pull off my headset when the show is over and fall back into my chair.

“Well, there’s a show to remind me why I love being happily married,” Donna says, coming out of the booth. “Good grief, I forgot how awkward that first time was.”

I stare at her, wondering briefly how it works with lesbians.

“Stop,” She says, reading my mind with a smirk on her face. “Don’t turn into one of those creeps that gets off on girls doing it.”

“Donna, I don’t think you understand how the male mind works,” I say with a laugh. “If that’s your criteria, almost every man on earth is a creep. I’d bet even a handful of men who bat for your team would be included in that group.”

She punches me in the arm. “Since we’re being personal, what’s this about you getting tips from the callers? Is this the same woman from before?”

I nod, staring thoughtfully at the wall ahead of me.

“So she’s a virgin?”

“Yep,” I say with a sigh.

“Don’t tell me she’s your first one.”

“No, but it has been a while, thank God. And she’s…well, different.”

“Awww,” she says tilting her head at me. “Has the playboy finally found the one bunny to make an honest man of him?” It’s said in jest, but I can hear the surprised sincerity in her voice.

I wrinkle my brow with irritation, not particularly liking being the subject of this sort of attention.

“Does she know about the show?”

“I plan on telling her this weekend. In person.” Prynne still hasn’t revealed her secret to me, but I’ve already made up my mind. I don’t want to go into this weekend with anything left on my plate, even if she still has something left on hers.

Donna twists her lips and raises her eyebrows at me. “How do you think she’ll take it?”

We both know what that means. All the shows are available for anyone to download. Prynne Dawson has played a minor role in every episode since I met her.

“I honestly don’t know,” I say with a wry chuckle.

“Well,” Donna says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good luck with that Rhys.”