Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll.

These are a few of my favorite things. heh. Not really. Well they used to be. But then one day I grew up and now sleeping, wine and silence are a few of my favorite things :) So Heather sorta kinda unoficially tagged us all to write about sex. More specifically what makes for good or bad sex. I love reading about everyone's sex lives of course, but I must say it makes for some nervous blog reading at work! hah.

It's easier for me to talk about all the bad sex of my past. For some reason it seems like the bad sex was more memorable. Maybe my subconscious was preparing to blog about this in the future. The second reason why it's easier for me to talk about the bad sex is because of that fact that I would like for my husband to somehow think that all of the sex in my past was horrible. That it doesn't count. Although maybe since he knows that I was far from a virgin on my wedding day, he really believes me when I tell him that he's the best lover I've ever had. Of course sex can't always be incredible, but when it IS incredible, it surpasses all my previous experiences by far.

The worst sex of my life took place while I was in college. It was really unfair. M was a great, great guy. Some of you may have read my comment about him on Heather's blog, but after some thinking, I honnestly believe 2 inches of love is being generous. I kid you not. I vividly our very first boner-worthy make out session... I reached to grab his love bone for the first time... and I couldn't find it. I seriously considered the possibility of M being a transexual at that very moment. Further investigating revealed that at his full potential, at his full glory, M extended a whole 2 inches. And that's being generous. If I press my thumb and my index together, it would completely cover the lenght of him. I remember once a long long time ago seing an online gallery of ridiculously small male genitalia. His was just like that. The kind that completely dissappears when he's sitting down. I was determined to not let his size bother me. Size isn't supposed to matter after all. Despite our very best efforts, we sadly came to the realization that it just was not meant to be. Our efforts were impeded by my overall body fat, and his horizontal disability. The only type of sex possible for us was manual and oral. After three months of this I could not take it anymore and broke up with M. He was heartbroken. He shaved his head right before his university graduation pictures. His mother was furious with me. I loved him, but I knew that I could definitely not live a sexless life. A month later, we met by coincidence at the Igloo bar, and I stupidly let myself fall for his teary love declaration once again. It hurt even more to have to break up once more. I still think about him sometimes, about how I could have possibly made it easier on him. (One of the things I regret saying to him was that I could not stay with him because I wanted kids someday... That really hurt his male ego.)

Okay to be completely honnest, I kind of cheated on him before breaking up with him. And I left him three days before Christmas. That's why I could have been more considerate of his feelings. The guy I cheated on him with was A. He was huge. He completely filled me. I couldn't stop grinning while we were doing it. He even commented on that. It must have boosted his ego. Despite the pleasant fullness feeling, it wasn't amazing sex. It was good sex. But not amazing. I was ridden with guilt ecause even though I was done with M in my mind, I hadn't made it official yet. I was cheating on a good guy.

Another pretty bad sexual experience I'm not sure I should blog about since one of my best friends, who reads this blog, knows him. And his wife. He is the second shortest penis I've ever met. I'll just say that he wanted us to use his wife's dildo. He was separated at the time. Now they're back together. What a cute happy ending. She's reunited with her husband and with her dildo.

Sadly, I've have a few more bad sex stories, but this is getting depressing. Let's move on to the good stuff.

The greatest sex of my life is in my present. My only complaint is that I would like it more often. Way more often. I guess all good things come to those who wait. The wait is worth it.

I'm trying to think of the other good sexual experiences in my life but I'm realizing that all those adventures ended rather sourly. I've never had any nasty breakups, just nasty heartbreaks on mine or their part.

When I first met Steph, I was determined to never get involved romantically with him despite my strong feelings for him. I did not want to date a fat guy. I'm a fat girl, it's not like I was discriminating, it was just that from my previous experiences, fat sex was not the greatest. I think I knew I was going to marry him the first time we had sex. That was the time the pizza delivery guy interrupted us. If I wasn't sure then I knew for sure that I was going to marry him when he shielded me from boiling hot water in our dysfunctional appartment shower. I have always felt so safe in his presence.

So I guess I really don't think there is a way to foresee if sex with someone is going to be good, passable or bad. Although I think when you're truly in love, it can't be bad.

P.S. One of my best sexual experiences did include sex, drugs and rock n' roll. Although not too hardcore. It was sex, marijuana and Radiohead hehe.


Scatterbrain said...

Your blogging again!! YAY!!

I have no comments about sex at this time.

Anygma said...

Nancyyyyyyyyyyyyy! thanks for the bad mental picture. now i don't know if i'll be ever able to visit them again. if i do, i'll feel terribly unconfortable, knowing such an intimate tidbit of private info. that's why i don't think i'll blog about sex, i had somewhat considered it before i read your blog but now i have a good reason not to.
now i have to find the man in black so they can erase that part of my memory