November 10, 2010 § 1 Comment
I am proud to introduce a story defining the modern girl’s struggle in the bedroom with a new man. This comes to us courtesy of my dear friend, The Backwoods Wench. Enjoy.
Dale came over last night, we snuggled and watched a movie. We started kissing and he climbed on top of me. While executing this maneuver, his foot got stuck in the crease of the sofa. It was lodged in the bars of the pullout mattress. Not the smoothest move I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, the struggle to get his foot out kinda ruined the moment. Plan B.
He suggested going to bed, so we gathered up our things and hit the sack. The make-out session resumed and we started messing around. My kind of fun. The minute I put my mouth on his penis he came! Fun over. Of course he felt stupid and immediately things got awkward. I was bummed because I thought for sure we were going to get down to business, it had been a few weeks of dry humping and I was going out of my mind. Then he said, “I’ll go down on you and then I’ll be ready to go.” Yay for me! But once he got down there, he had no clue what he was doing.
Seriously, guys, I know it’s a bit of a challenge, but a va jay jay isn’t an optical illusion. I waited a bit thinking maybe it would get better, but after some time I had to give him “the tap.” You know the tap on the shoulder that basically says, “hey, this isn’t going to happen so you might as well come back up.” Not so sensual. So he comes up and apologizes, poor guy. Plan C, I go to work at it. So now he’s hard again and goes to put it in. I had to stop him to put a condom on. He wasn’t very happy about the condom thing what-so-ever. He puts it on and of coarse goes completely limp. Well… that idea kinda went out the window. And okay, yes, we all agree a bag is a drag, but if a man is worth his performance he will be able to take care of business even with a shield on. I have been on both sides of this argument only to conclude that there should be no excuse.
Try again. This time when he stuck it in, maybe two pumps into the act he stops, pulls out, pulls the condom off and… well… all over my sheets! Totally misses my stomach! What a mess. Of course I do what every good girl does when she likes a guy but the gig isn’t up to her standards. I stroke his hair and sweetly tell him it’s okay, I was tired and not really in the mood anyway. This is the only time it’s okay to lie. Just like he tells me how skinny I look when I’m PMSing. After I make sure his ego is still somewhat stable after that embarrassing episode, I make him sleep on the side of the bed that’s all wet. And I get crap about this! Come on, dude! Wet spot etiquette: you make it, you sleep in it.
Then I had to deal with him apologizing all night for his premature ejaculation, and by this time I really was tired and not in the mood. Ugh. Not to mention the 50 texts I got the next day saying he was sorry and he will make it up to me. Damn right, he’ll make it up to me, although I did feel bad for him. I can’t imagine having a dick. Those things are unpredictable.
To make matters worse my recent ex decides to tell me he’s hanging out with a girl we to high school with, but he won’t tell me her name. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but I basically threw a fit. What a slap in the face! He knows I’ve started seeing someone else. He’s throwing this new chick in my face because he can’t stand the fact that I’m seeing someone he doesn’t even know. His imagination is making Dale the two-pump wonder into a porn star. I certainly hope my imagination can make him into a porn star too. I don’t want to have to use “the tap” again. Now I anxiously await for him to make it up to me.