Page 11 of Sex Ed

‘Things like that don’t happen for me…’ I start to drone on, and then laugh under my breath at how the roles have reversed today. It’s usually Mia lying here, drunk, tearfully murmuring about how she’s done nothing meaningful with her life, me making sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit. ‘I just think it’s never going to happen. I’ve left it too late.’

‘Stop being dramatic, you tool. You’ve known her for twelve hours,’ she says, her face illuminated by her phone light. Is she sat there on Twitter while I’m dying?

‘I’m twenty-eight. How has it not happened yet?’

‘You’re losing me. Like you keep telling me, we’re still young for all of that… We have time,’ she mumbles, trying to placate me.

‘But how have I not had sex yet?’ I splutter. Shit.

‘With her?’ Mia asks me, confused.

But my defences are gone, they are down. They got washed away in a wave of tequila and now I’m lying here shipwrecked on this bathroom floor, vulnerable, exposed. Quite literally. Where did my trousers go?

‘No, like ever.’

And with that there’s a loud thump to my forehead as Mia drops her phone and it lands on my temple, potentially crushing any sense of self-esteem I had left. I just said that out loud, didn’t I? I told her. Shit, shit, shit.

‘ED, ARE YOU A VIRGIN?’ she shrieks.

And with that, a door opens on the other side of the corridor, and a figure emerges in avocado print pyjamas. ‘Mia, how many times do I have to tell you… If you’re bringing visitors back, then keep the noise down! It’s past midnight! And why the fuck is he covering his balls with my dressing gown?’

THREE

MIA

Ed is a virgin. I didn’t know those existed. Not at our age anyway. Maybe he was so drunk that he forgot all the times he’s had sex. I wish I could get that drunk.

I’d definitely erase the memory of that man I brought back from a nightclub at uni once who literally hurled while he was on top of me. Not on me, he thrusted and then leant over the side of the bed, but, as you can imagine, mood killer. That said, for all the times I’ve wanted to forget the sex I’ve had, I’ve also had some pretty awesome sex. I don’t think it defines my being but it’s something I enjoy, something I gain a lot of happiness from, something I can’t quite imagine not having in my life. Ed doesn’t have sex in his life and that makes me strangely sad.

After Ed told me, he closed his eyes, possibly because my phone knocked him out, or because of the shame? But it was followed by some light snoring, so I did the good friend thing of putting him on his side and leaving him to sleep it off. There was no way I was going to move him or ask my housemates to help me shift him. I then went into the kitchen, finished off the chips Ed abandoned there with some mayo from the fridge that’s been there since last summer, and fell asleep on my sofa watching some Netflix programme about bad cake. When I woke up, he was gone.

Since then, I’ve not heard from him, which is mildly strange as normally he drops me a text on Sunday reminding me to set an alarm or flagging up important departmental meetings and charity dress-up days. I hope he’s still alive. Maybe all that tequila made him spontaneously combust. I did send a text on Saturday morning. It was a tequila meme. He read it but didn’t reply.

Now I’m sat on the number sixty-five bus on the way to school trying to figure out how I broach this. Do I pretend the tequila gave me temporary amnesia and forget he ever told me? Do I do what I normally do with Ed and just laugh it out, go super acerbic? Will that make him feel bad? I don’t want to make him feel bad. There are a lot of men out there who are virgins. Religious peeps who want to wait until they’re married. Men who live in lighthouses and never see women. Steve Carrell made a very good film about the whole subject. To be a good friend, I even googled it to see if it was a thing. Three percent of adults over twenty-five in this country are virgins. I don’t know how they got people to admit to that statistic, but I read their stories and their experiences. They live among us.

The bus slows down on the high street at Ed’s stop. I arch my head over the crowd of people to see if he’s there but he’s not. This is disappointing mainly because sometimes on a Monday he will buy me a coffee. I bite my lip. I hope he’s OK. Ed never misses the bus. I miss the bus and then he calls me to tell me I’ve missed the bus. In his place, a group of kids from our school get on which is going to give me all the joy this Monday morning. Our kids at Griffin Road are a motley crew, which is often the way of a British comprehensive on the outskirts of London. It’s phones in hand, AirPods in ears, short skirts, puffer jackets and black school bags sponsored by Nike, Adidas and Vans.

‘Miss Johnson!’ one of them squeals at me as they all herd in my direction.

‘Lola Kissey, good morning… I never see you on this bus, kids?’ I announce to them as they decide to sit around me, marvelling in the novelty of seeing one of their teachers on the bus.

‘Oh, we’re going in for the GCSE booster sessions… we were told we’d get breakfast if we go,’ says one of the lads.

‘I wouldn’t get too excited about that, just in case you’re holding out for a McMuffin,’ I joke.

‘Don’t you drive, Miss?’

‘I do but the car parking situation sucks at school and this way I’m saving the planet,’ I say, yawning. I miss Ed. I miss Ed’s coffee.

Lola scans my look from my feet up to my hair. I was never going to be the sort of teacher who comes in wearing a tailored suit and a mid-heel. I’m the Converse and leather jacket teacher, the one who had to try on three pairs of tights this morning before finding a pair that didn’t have holes, who carries her belongings in a big fluffy tote. I can’t quite tell if this impresses her.

‘So, what booster subject today?’

‘Biology with Mr Rogers,’ says a voice.

I smile for a moment, realising why Ed is not on this bus. He’d have been first in with the caretakers, knowing Ed.

‘Then knowing Mr Rogers, he will give you breakfast and likely, he will have baked it himself. He’s good like that. If he hasn’t made them for you this morning, then apple cinnamon crumble muffins. They will change your life. I keep telling him he should be on Bake Off.’

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