Lets open another chapter of the Big Red Book but this time, lets all be prepared to get very uncomfortable.
Back in high school, I was more or less a ghost. I never got the guy I wanted, and there weren’t too many who hung out with me. I was extremely shy, and kind of weird… The weird part of me is still around, but people like it these days! There was a guy in my history class and many other classes throughout those four years. We’ll call him Lispy due to his lisp. Self explanatory, no? Anyways, Lispy was outgoing, smoked both weed and cigarettes, and was pretty much the opposite of me. I thought he was cute in an unconventional way. He literally sat facing me in our History class and didn’t know who I was.
On my 19th birthday, I was supposed to meet some friends at the bar, but as many of us do, I never made it. I felt pretty bad because the friends who never really went out to the bars had made an effort to meet me there and I was too wasted to go. I called them the next day one by one thanking them for going and apologizing for not making it. My one friend said it was no big deal, and that he had gone with some friends. One had been from our high school. I asked for his number even though I hadn’t ever spoken to him, and decided to call him thanking him and apologizing too since he had equally made somewhat of an effort. This guy answered the phone, and through the lisp, I wondered if it was who I knew of in high school. He thought my apologizing was the sweetest thing since we “had never met.” He asked if I wanted to get together for coffee, and I agreed because I thought he was a really funny guy as we had been talking.
When we met, I knew who he was. I said hello to him, expecting him to mention something about being in the same classes. He had no idea I even went to his high school, even after explaining where I sat at lunch and who I hung out with. After being offended but hiding it well, I decided that I wasn’t going to let the ghost that was me in high school get bullied by the popular guy. I decided then that I would date him even though the word girlfriend made me gag a little. I was 19 after all, and just transferred to a university filled with hot men.
Over time he fell for me. I just pulled the fun girl moves and made it work. We hung out and had good times, but honestly there’s not too much I can recall except making out in his single bed with his bunny rabbit in the living room, who he was obsessed with.
Finally, we decided it was time to have sex. Well, I was looking forward to this since it had been some months and I wanted to see what he was packing. It was not impressive. I won’t hold it against him because I have seen smaller, it just didn’t do anything for me. His body was better than I imagined, however, and it seemed to even out. As we started going at it, he did a funny position with him on his knees and me around his waist, which you usually get to later. As it was our first time and had no idea if he was a freaky one, I said “Let’s just do missionary,” since that wasn’t satisfying ANYTHING. His response: Isn’t this missionary?
WHO DOESN’T KNOW MISSIONARY POSITION?
If you have seen ANY movie in the later 90’s to present day (hell, even TV shows) someone will begin to have sex and the default position is missionary.
Anyways, this “relationship” continued longer, maybe because I thought I could fix it, maybe because I wanted to break his heart for all those days in high school. Regardless of the reason, it droned on taking a toll on my sexuality. When we had sex it was immediately a chore, not that it took as long as dishes, but I had to pretend he was doing a good job. I used to have a time correcting a guy or showing him what I like. The poor Lispy thought he was doing a good job.
One night at his apartment, listening to his bunny rabbit wiggling around in those wood shavings, Lispy and I had sex and I stayed over. As McKenzie was around throughout this “relationship” and I had texted her with all the juicy deets, I felt compelled as Lispy slept to text her with how terrible my experience had just been. It was about 1 or 2 in the morning and I was quite tired, but was so dissatisfied I needed to have someone outraged with me at the lack of sexual knowledge.
I sent McKenzie a text saying “Worst. Sex. Ever.” At that moment I heard Lispy’s phone go off. I looked at my phone: Last Text Message Sent To: Lispy.
Has your heart ever literally stopped? Mine did that night.
McKenzie and Lispy’s names started with the same letter and I accidentily sent it to him. Could I let it go and just leave him sleeping? I’m not that heartless.
He woke up and asked if that was his phone that went off. I said no, and he said he was going to the washroom. This was a time when cell phones weren’t as important to check as now, and I thank technology for that. I went into his pocket and got his phone, trying to decipher how to delete the text message since his phone was something I didn’t know how to use. I managed to delete it at the moment Lispy was in sight. He went back to sleep and that was the end of it… Or was it?
Our cell phone provider’s text message service was screwed up at the time and had randomly been sending double messages. My luck was in that day. Not really. His phone went off again. I don’t know if my guardian angel of sex was watching over me that day but he fell right asleep and I deleted the second one half dead from my heart attack. He never found out, but I most certainly learned a lesson. Wait until you aren’t tired and can read to send a text message, but also don’t bother having bad sex for months.
Needless to say the next day I stopped receiving messages and calls, and he still hates me to this day. I was just happy I didn’t have the awkward conversation of “that text was actually for McKenzie.”