It was roughly 2 am when I felt the shame swim through my body like I was slowly being poisoned; I could sense this devastating heat pulse through every fiber of my being as I wiped away the hot tears, my bottom lip quivering.

I let the street lights guide my pink and white Vans down Snapdragon Lane as I recalled the immense rush of pleasure I’d experienced on the trampoline just moments prior.

I was eleven and I’d had my first kiss with tongue.

Before then, I was obsessed with the idea of boys, fantasizing about Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Shia Labeouf, and I even became quite an impressive flirt, but for some reason, making any real “moves” felt like something I just wasn’t equipped for.

In fifth grade, I vividly remember how bad I needed to pee, but being forced to hold it which is bound to happen when you share a bathroom with two siblings. So, in an effort to keep it all in, I decided to sit on the beige carpet in my bedroom and press my heel against the crotch of the black spandex shorts I’d worn to dance earlier that night.

While I was accomplishing what I’d intended (holding in my pee), I was surprised to experience such a pleasurable sensation down there.

“Is this what happens when I push on my vagina when I reeeeeallly have to pee?” I remember sincerely wondering.

Within seconds, I heard the bathroom door open and ran to empty my bladder. I washed my hands (obviously) and went back to my bedroom to try and focus on my homework, which was nearly impossible as my mind was consumed with questions.

Should I ask my mom if that was normal?
Should I try it again to see if I feel the same sensation?
Was I supposed to feel that or is there something wrong with me?

Since I’d never heard anything about masturbating or female pleasure, I decided I should put the feeling out of my mind.

Except every so often, I’d find myself back down on that beige carpet with my tween heel pressed snuggly against my… area.

For some reason, the concept of exploring down there with my hand just wasn’t programmed into my reality until much later. I don’t even remember knowing about porn until eighth grade… I know — with all the dance slumber parties I had with older girls, you would’ve thought I’d be given the 411.

Back to 11-year-old me on the trampoline

“Devon,” he looked at me with those striking light-blue eyes, “I dare you to kiss me.”

I felt the butterflies in my stomach wake up with ferocity as he leaned across the trampoline to grab the back of my neck.

I closed my eyes and puckered my oversized lips together, suddenly feeling the warmth of his mouth. Within seconds, his smooth tongue glided against mine and the butterflies seemed to move… down south. Without thinking, I let my tongue slow dance with his and squirmed as he gently bit my bottom lip.

I never wanted that moment to end, until I noticed my underwear was soaking wet.

“I’ve gotta go!” I announced abruptly, jumping off the bouncy material.

“Wait!” he called out, but I was already closing the gate and running home, pulling down the hood on my gray sweatshirt to block out the taunting street lights.

I was sure there was something wrong with me as I made my way up the concrete steps to my front door, eager to get that full-booty underwear off and slip into conservative pajamas.

Although I wanted to brag to my friends about kissing a guy from high school, I was positive they’d somehow know my other secret, so I kept it to myself, consumed in my desire to kiss him again.

As the years went on, so did my experience level, which is all a part of growing up — learning things for yourself and growing with each new encounter.

But, I would also stress the importance of not feeling alone.

Sure, I could’ve asked my mom questions, but I was scared — embarrassed — a sentiment I’m sure many can share at such a young age.

Also, parents (mostly) want to protect their children, so there can be a fine line between educating them on all the “bells and whistles” and planting ideas in their head that they may not be physically or mentally ready for.

I’m not sure if those discussions will ever be safely inserted into the sex education curriculum, but I’m POSITIVE that teaching abstinence and showering out scare tactics is not “the way.”

That said, as a full-fledged adult (kind of), I feel so relieved to have outlets I can visit when I’m feeling confused, dismayed, or curious. Whether that be through porn, social media, a basic Google search, or Sarah Hyland talking about kegel exercises on Ellen.

So, as a collective, let’s continue to preach sex positivity because there’s nothing more powerful than a female who embraces that radiating Kundalini energy.

Except maybe a hurricane, or nuclear force, or a grizzly bear… okay, there’s a lot that’s more dominant than someone with tantric energy, but it certainly sounds and feels empowering, so get on board because we’re running with it.