Punk boys, bowling and buttcracks…
Punk boy pressed his body against mine and kissed me on the neck. He was a bit rougher than I was used to, but I let it slide because sometimes rough can be exciting. After the lukewarm date we had, the kissing was a welcome change.
I am very new to dating. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m the 40 year old virgin or anything, it’s just that I have had a couple of very, very long relationships. Even those relationships didn’t start with “dating”. It was always just friends that turned into something more. The way I see it, if you already feel comfortable farting in front of someone before you’ve had your first kiss, formal dating doesn’t really make sense.
Suddenly he pulled back and said “When was the last time you were tested?” I thought that his timing was terrible, but this was only date number two. Late 90’s MTV taught me to be proactive and have the sexual history discussion early. But in the middle of the act just felt wrong. Clearly I have learned nothing from Pedro Zamora.
“Last summer” I said. It had been your normal trip to Planned Parenthood for birth control, condoms, and period talk. I had been there before, but for some reason had never been tested. It’s not like I have had a lot of sexual partners. I’ve probably had a lot less than most women my age; but the doctor gently reminded me that ANY amount of sexual partners puts you at risk and that I was a moron for not getting tested earlier. She had a point.
This seemed to alleviate some of his fears and he kissed me again, “I was tested in September and have had two partners since then, both protected.” “Perfect” I said. He proceeded to grab a condom off of his night table and fumble to put it on. I could tell he was getting slightly aggravated, but to be honest, after all of the kissing, I was ready to go.
I grabbed his back and guided him inside of me, but already I was starting to have a bad feeling. He was moaning…too much.
In retrospect, there were red flags scattered throughout the night that I should have seen. Unfortunately beer has a way of making those things invisible.
The first red flag was the full life story and prior relationship talk we had. I know this is a dating faux pas, but I wanted to be open minded when he started opening up to me. Seriously, who makes up those rules anyways?
Red flag number two was the buttcrack. I LOVE seeing people’s buttcracks. I am never, ever bothered when I see it peeking out of the top of someone’s pants. But not when I’m on a date. That’s where I draw the line. We had been bowling earlier in the evening and every shot he took pulled his shirt up enough to see at least three inches of crack. It was alarming how far up his back it started.
Red flag number three was that out of place moaning. He started doing it while we were kissing, and it was hot for maybe a minute before I started to get slightly annoyed.
He pulled away from me again and stared at me for a minute. A full naked minute. “What’s the matter?” I asked. It was then that I realized he was pulling the condom off. Erection totally gone. “Well the reason I asked about testing is that it’s really hard for me to do it with a condom on. I never really used them.”
Well here it is. The real reason for his questions. No matter how much we know about STDs in this day and age, this mother fucker wants to have sex without a condom. No way, no how. Not now, not ever my friend.
“Well, I’m actually pretty strict about that” I said. “It’s not something I’m going to negotiate on.”
He nodded agreement, albeit disappointed, and we continued kissing in the hopes that he would be able to get it up again. Three condoms later and his moans had turned to grunts of frustration. I decided to get up and put my clothes on despite his pleas to let him “rip them back off”.
I leaned in and told him maybe we would have better luck next time, then I grabbed my things and left knowing there would never be a next time.
Sex is great. If our date had been amazing and followed by awful sex, I would have stayed in a heartbeat. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. I drove home thinking about what, if anything, I should say to break things off. I am terrible with confrontation. I hoped that he would just never contact me again.
Of course the next morning I had received a text telling me how much fun he had, and of course I did not reply. Hopefully my silence says more than my words ever could.