The first time I had sex was with my husband. It was two and a half months after our wedding. I was on the bottom. Our failed attempts at sex had been the source of an unparalleled amount of anxiety since our wedding day, but the penetration, when it finally occurred, was mostly uneventful. I remember that I panicked, as always, and that he told me to look him in the eyes. It was January, a new year. I do not remember bleeding. After, I cried. I was not amid ecstasy or pleasure, but I felt a happiness that I had been watching from far away, circling in the sky like a small bird, finally land on my abdomen. The sharp feet of this relief prickled, and my groin burned. I wished that I had known my body sooner.
The first time I had sex was with my husband. I...
