The first time I successfully masturbated I was eleven and my older brother and his girlfriend were watching Woody Allen’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask). Still, or for that reason, Tawny should have known better. But by third grade I was well established as one of the unpopular kids, and flying below everyone’s sexual radar. In first grade Tawny had had a crush on me and had invited me over to her house at lunch for fish sticks, which I couldn’t eat. It also reminded me of an earlier time, in third grade, when Tawny Collie-that was really her name-the sexiest girl at Elbow Elementary bent over to pick up a red rubber ball during recess and a couple of my friends pushed me onto her behind and she turned around and said, “Clancy, that’s not nice!” I protested, and my friends laughed. I will remember this for many years to come, in unexpected situations, soothing, erotic, violent, or clumsy. As I brushed quickly by she bends to iron and presses her bottom against me. It would be unnatural to turn to face the cupboards as I slip past. There is barely room to squeeze between the kitchen counter and her bottom. Photograph via Flickr by Michele Molinari
