“My dick is fucking raw,” he said, bent over the bed with his hard-on exposed. “I think I can feel your IUD.”
I narrowed my eyes at him in indignant speculation. He was neither the largest nor most enthusiastic sex partner I had been with that summer. How could that be? (This is actually nearly impossible.) And then to think, that while I was on top of him, I was actually stabbing him with my IUD… I felt embarrassed and angered by his lack of grace. I made a secret vow to myself right then and there that I would never again ride him. Ha!
Except, for logic-defying reasons unknown, I wanted to have sex with him again, and thought about it frequently. Maybe it was his repetitive, sweet pillow talk which occurred incessantly both nights we spent together. He was still mourning the break-up with his long-term girlfriend that happened a year and a half ago, calling her his “girlfriend” on more than one occasion.
“You have a girlfriend?” I once asked incredulously.
“No, I mean my ex-girlfriend.” If that isn’t a big enough sign to get out while you still can, I don’t know what is. But my ego got in the way and I viewed us as two people cut from the same cloth — two melancholy victims of awful breakups who were still somewhat caught up in the evil vortexes of their villainous exes. In a romantic comedy, this was the perfect set-up for us to fall in love while we soothed each other’s broken hearts with oral sex and reverse-cowgirl. He was broken, and so like many other women in the world, I thought, alas, it is only I who can fix him with the healing properties of my vagina! The success rate of this idea sits at a slim two per cent (probably) and like many heroic women before me, the fallen man continued hobbling along his crooked path, having now hurt both of us even more in his delusional quest of the broken-hearted.
Hailey Rollheiser is a fifth-year English literature major who hopes that none of her immediate family (sorry Dad), her employer, or her previous sexual partners read what she’s written in this issue.