there is indeed, a first time for everything, sometimes that becomes the natural consequence of a "last time", but at least you're trying everything once.
the first time i did my own laundry, when i went to boarding school, i learned that stuffing your knickers in with blue jeans results in dingy, grey and rather "british" looking undies. my mother was aghast that i did not know this; well, she never told me! i have since become the laundry nazi, segregating my colours with obsessive zeal. it was also around the time i was attending boarding school that i became; "ma'am, would you like a newspaper or wine with your meal?" as opposed to "do you want one of our young flyer's goodie bags?" on a trip home for christmas. however, this pseudo mature form of address did not stop me from jumping off the roof of a house into a swimming pool because "all the boys did it" for the first (and last) time. upon recollection, my time served at boarding school was a number of "firsts" for me. during our after play cast party for my ancient history class i became drunk for the first time and experienced "bed spin" later on that night. in a phone call home to my mother she told me the remedy for this was to throw your leg out of bed and plant your foot firmly on the floor (ironically, the first time she got drunk was also on cider). it wasn't until almost 10 years later that i first threw up from imbibing too much captain morgans & coke at a halloween party.
i remember the first time i:
~discovered that salt and sugar were very hard to tell apart after i had baked some "sugar" cookies. mmmm!
~realized i was just the same as everyone else who was trying to be "different" while still "fitting in".
~heard my grandmother's shock that i had had a boyfriend and was not, in fact a lesbian (age 23).
~tasted my first chocolate malt with a matress salesman.
~got so angry at louisa may alcott for hooking laurie up with bratty amy while joe wound up with some old man.
~heard the air raid sirens during the gulf war and feeling utterly helpless as we filed into our "designated room" (the pots and pans cupboard),and sealing ourselves in, listening to BBC worldservice hoping saddam had chosen to send one west to israel, instead of south to us.
~ tried gefilte fish...no wait, i still refuse to do that because it just smells and looks nasty!
~heard my brother stick up for me (instead of trying to get me into trouble) with my mother.
before this inventory becomes too sentimental or personal i will stop before i say too much, obviously this is also something of a first.