As I walked into the room, I broke out in a cold sweat. The lights were fuzzy in my vision and a shiver of nervousness rolled down my spine. I took in my surroundings, spotted the man I had come to see. He approached me, and I took in every detail I could in my fit of anxiety.

Young, but significantly older than myself. But older means more experienced, right? Cinnamon colored skin, big hands, and handsome features I could gaze at for hours. His eyes had a gentle warmth to them, as if to say “You’re safe with me, I’ve done this many times before.”

Seeing his gaze on me increased my anxiousness. “I took a quick glance downward at my apparel, suddenly wishing I had worn something more appropriate than my peasant blouse and blue jeans. “Come this way, you’re in good hands,” he said with a smile. My jitters calmed slightly, so I followed him into the interior of the large area. This is such a big room!

“Are you sure everything is going to be okay?” I stutter as he shows me where he wants me to sit.

“Everything is fine. Relax. Breathe. You may have some discomfort this time, but others usually look forward to this every chance they get.”

“Okay,” I sigh as I lay back. I feel his hands on my arms, pressing on my chest.

“Hey, it’s cold,” I say.

He just smiles and turns away. When he faces me again, I see it. I gulp and feel my heart accelerate. “It’s… big. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“You’ll be fine, just relax.”

I try to calm down as I see him come closer to me. I feel the tip touch my flesh and I gasp, but reign in my fear. I wanted to do this, so I will do it. Finally, it goes in and I cry out in pain. “It hurts!”

He just smiles again and soothes me, saying it always hurts the first time.

“No, it hurts really bad and I feel… sick.” My vision blurs again, worse than the first time, and bile rises in my throat. Suddenly, I feel myself leaned further back and a cool cloth on my forehead.

Nurses rush around me, checking my vitals and the needle in my arm as the doctor hands me a juice with instructions to sip slowly. If I could blush, I would. I’m the only one to get sick and light headed in the whole gym. Shouldn’t I just feel so special to be the only weakling at the annual blood drive?


Actually, I should feel special. My blood could save someone’s life. I just wish my first time would have gone better. And I wish the ceiling was more interesting to look at it since I have to spend the whole 10 minutes laid back in the chair.