Theoretically Karen knew that her first time would have to occur, and she suspected that it almost always involved moist lawns or the backseats of cars, dark rooms, fear of parents, mosquito bites on your backside, and bad music. But of course Karen thought it would be different for her. Mind-blowing and golden, without the smacking of tongues or the smell of bodily discharges. And when the moment arrived, Karen knew it. They were sitting in a restaurant, and Karen wasn’t eating anything because she had to gaze at Patuk. He looked so unbelievably good. Karen felt uneasy in the too see-through blouse he had given her, and the high heels from the charity shop. She drank wine. Tasted like shit, but helped her not listen too closely to what Patuk said. Karen gazed at him and wanted to touch him and lick him from head to toe and eat him or just strike him dead so she could have him next to her forever, that is until he decomposed. Unfortunately once in a while Karen caught what Patuk was saying. “I’m going to be a tailor because I like to be around people.” Pause. Something in his ear, hand goes to ear, finds something. Fingers roll something before it is stuck in mouth. Don’t look, take another sip, concentrate on the nice feeling, don’t want to lose it. There was something stuck on the side of Patuk’s mouth, quickly licked the knife clean. “I like cars best when they’re fast. Then it’s like flying.” Of course, thought Karen. Like flying. The only thing tougher than being in love is being in love and finding the object of that affection is a bit stupid. A dire conflict between hormones and brains. Karen didn’t have a chance. She was delirious. And another sip. And a bottle later they were lying on a blanket by a lake; it was damp and a little too cold for the see-through blouse; one of the high heels had got stuck in the grass. Then kissing, groping, and underwear pulled aside, and then he was inside her; it was painful and not the slightest bit magnificent, not at all, and Patuk banged his lower body against hers, the noises too loud in the silence. Patuk groaned; Karen was worried she had hurt him. Patuk pulled out of her, wiped his penis on the blanket, didn’t look at Karen, who straightened out her things, which were damp and crumpled.

On the way home not a word. They didn’t kiss goodbye. Karen went to her room. And began to cry. She was sure something was wrong with her, that this wonderful love would be over because she was weird. Because it must have been just as awful for Patuk as it had been for her. Somehow dirty. “Ah, come on, have another sip.” Said Patuk

A week or two later