My best friend was also from Bristol, although she was at the university in Leeds. A few years older than me, she'd taken a shine to me at a Primal Scream concert the previous summer and we'd been pretty much inseparable until I met Emma, my first real girlfriend. Although Rachel was good about this, she made me promise to find someone for her and within a few weeks I'd fixed her up with a peculiar friend of mine called Neil.
Emma and I had been going out for about three months when Rachel went off to Leeds. She was sharing a house with two dancers, one flamboyantly gay, the other flamboyantly not. Neil, the only one of us with a car, drove us up. I got an idea that Rachel might be thinking along the same lines as us when the compilation tape she'd made for Neil to play on the way up ended with The Cure's "Let's Go To Bed" repeated three times.
The trip took lots of strategic preparation, with trips to the supermarket for food for the weekend (for some reason, all four of us were living on a diet of Southern Comfort and SuperNoodles) and packets of Mates. When we got to Leeds, the storm was really violent, and we spent hours getting lost in traffic before finally making it to Rachel's house.
Rachel was living in a particularly violent area of Leeds and we only ventured out of the house once during the whole weekend (for a family bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken). Her bedroom was on the top floor, while Emma and I slept in the lounge.
We all went to bed at around midnight. Emma and I had sex three times that night, the first two times over too quickly, but the third time lasting until the following morning. Emma and I had been physically intimate for a while before having sex, so it wasn't awkward or embarrassing. The only problem I can remember was trying to decide who should go on top.
The four of us spent most of the weekend having sex. On Sunday afternoon, some of Rachel's neighbours caught Emma and me sharing an intimate moment in the back garden, which was a little awkward, but extremely funny afterwards. The four of us enjoyed each other's company, and there was a great feeling that we were all sharing something special.
I'm quite pleased about the way I lost my virginity. It seems so much nicer than losing it down a dark alleyway, or up a tree, or in a skip. My parents were lenient about Emma staying over so there would've been no problem having our first time at home, but it seemed nicer that I lost it at my friend's house.
I went out with Emma for the next five years, with us both going to the same university and managing to sustain the relationship until half way through our time there. I'm not in contact with her any more, but I have fond memories of that time, and feel lucky to have come of age at such an exciting time.
Matt Thorne is the author of `Eight Minutes Idle' (Sceptre, pounds 6.99).