This one is painful.
It’s Friday night at 7 and I sat down at a bustling Harlem dumpling spot with the cutie patootie software engineer from Date #8. Dinner was good- it took a while to explain that I didn’t want meat or eggs with any of my dishes (so high maintenance)- but the veggie dumplings and steamed veggies were delish. After dinner, we couldn’t find any bars in the neighborhood that weren’t loud or expensive so we called it a night and started heading to his place.
I should have known this wasn’t going to end well when he insisted on catching the subway for one stop.
Why? It’ll take longer to wait for the train than it will to walk.
It’s cold though. And it’s kind of a far walk.
11 streets and 2 Avenues?
Yeah, let’s catch the train.
But that’s not efficient.
Should have known. Should. Have. Known. There are few things that annoy me more than inefficiency, but it was the weekend! So I was trying to be cool and let loose.
Let’s skip to the juicy stuff…or rather, the not-so-juicy stuff if you get my drift.
We get to his apartment and his roommate is in the kitchen so we make a sharp left straight into the bedroom. He turns on Real Husbands of Hollywood insisting that I’ll think it’s hilarious. Half an epi in, we start making out and it was okay but 30 seconds later BOOM! He goes for the zipper.
Do you have somewhere to be? Are you late for something? Jesus. Slow down.
Apparently he didn’t understand how this was supposed to go and I wasn’t in the mood to educate this kid on how to have proper sexual relations with a woman. So I redirected him back to my lips and told him to back off down there. But it didn’t get better. The kissing was sloppy and saliva-y. At this point I was over it, but the show was funny, and this guy was cute, and I wasn’t about to leave without getting any D. I mean I was already there and had already used up some effort on him…how bad could the rest be?
It started getting heated and then- again with the horrible transition- got up and grabbed a condom.
Oh, no. Put that away, I’m not ready yet.
Oh, uh, okay.
So he came back and rubbed around for a bit but it was pointless. He was lost down there. So condom it was. BUT THEN HE CAME AT ME WITH NO LUBE. Jesus. I had verbalized TWICE that this was the largest penis I have ever experienced in my entire life and he didn’t think to lube up? Who is letting him fuck them without lube!?? Even if I was juiced to the max, I doubt that would have been enough.
So I had him turn around again, get some lube, and THEN approach the golden chalice that is my sacred lady bit. But it was bad. Every position was bad. When I got on top and told him to literally just lay still, he couldn’t follow directions. So it was over. I got up unsatisfied and went to the bathroom to find blood dripping down my leg. And it wasn’t period blood. My vajay was broken and in pain.
And the bleeding/throbbing continued through to the next night when I went out with Babeland. Dancing with a sad punani isn’t fun. But then I started thinking, perhaps this guy has never had a relationship before. Maybe he’s never been taught how to properly wield his sword because his previous trysts have been with one night stands or flings who don’t have the time/want to teach him. Or maybe he watches wayyyy too much porn and he’s single because he can’t figure out sex irl. Or maybe he’s overly sensitive to criticism and is a horrible sex student and dumps anyone who tries to suggest something new in the sheets. So many possibilities. I could write an entire fictional blog on the sex history I imagine for him.
But the most important part of the Babeland Challenge is to learn- learn about ourselves and learn about the other people in this metropolitan playground. Lessons learned from this date: 1) Big dicks are nothing to joke about. They are serious business and need lots of mental and physical preparation and probably a lot of practice. 2) Sex injuries not funny. 3) I’m too old for guys my own age. Let’s try upping my Bumble age range from 24-35 to 30-35 and see how that works out.