*sigh*

I placed my hand around her neck, carefully positioning my fingers on top of the jugular veins bulging from her skin, so that when I squeezed my fingers together they would cut off the flow of blood to the brain. According to Angie, this increased the pleasure from sex tenfold. “You sure that I’m doing this right? I mean, when I think of choking people I think of killing them. If you die in the middle of this I’m pretty sure that I’ll be scarred for life.” She just nodded her head, grabbed me roughly and placed me inside her.1

I fall into the regular back and forth routine, all the while entertaining the itching thought in the corner of my mind of me, curled up in some dank spider web filled corner, rocking back and forth, crying about how I killed my girlfriend in the middle of sex.2

Well, Ex-Girlfriend.3

I tried to focus on the pleasure of me being inside her, not the expectant sound of a windpipe snapping in-between the creaking of my bed frame as I continued on, oblivious to the fact that I would be considered a murderer and necrophiliac as I later talked to the cops. Try and explain choking your girlfriend to death while having sex with her, your defense goes down the drain.4

“Ok, no, this is weird. I have enough mental problems as it is, I don’t need you to be adding more.” I lay down on my back to the side of her, staring at the ceiling and wondering how on earth I was able to find and date all the craziest women who have been spawned on earth. Angie turned to me, first placing her hand on my chest, and then throwing her leg over mind as she mounted back on top of me. Ahh, normal sex, which would be nice for once. She gyrated her hips around and leaned in close to me. Expecting a kiss I leaned forward with puckered lips. “Here, I’ll show you what it’s like.” She said, and placed her hand around my neck.
Initial shock caused me to thrust up, confusing her into believing that I was enjoying having her nails dig into the side of my neck. While she bucked and squirmed, my mind raced. “Ok, Ok, calm down here buddy. Some people find this enjoyable. Let’s find out what the big deal behind it is. Let’s see: Can’t breathe? Check. Pain in my neck? Check. Double the pleasure, double the fun? Fuck this, I’ll take double mint any day!” In order to get Angie’s attention I gave the international sign of “please stop, you’re killing me” and flailed my hands wildly in the air while pointing to my neck.
She fell to the side of me and let out a long sigh. Was she disappointed that I found pain a turn off during sex? Is it a problem that I am unwilling to hurt women? How comfortable did I have to become with sex? 5

I’m not as open about sex as all my friends seem to be. Being the first one on my street with internet I was the first to know about sex and pornography. Passing around my knowledge only seemed to have me labeled as a pervert, so I quickly learned to shut my mouth. Sometime between when I learned to quit talking about sex and the time I first had sex, things had changed. A world full of threesomes, fuck buddies, and drunken sex fell upon my friends. Soon enough conversations had shifted away from TV shows and video games to relationships, from relationships to sex, and from sex to outright bragging about sexual conquests and tactics.6

My comfort levels had been breached. Somewhere along the line I had began to grow uncomfortable with the idea of mentioning sex. When forced into conversation, all the fuck, sex, orgasms and foreplay was turned into “making squishy”, “doing stuff” and copulation. I substitute childish and scientific terms, elaborate and multisyllabic for quite a simple concept.7

Psychology reports show that those we are uncomfortable with sex, either talking about it, watching it, or engaging in it might have those problems stemming from multiple events that happen in life. Maybe someone’s parents taught them that sex was a bad and disgusting act. Perverted and dirty, this subconscious thought though drilled its way into the mind of said child until it affected them every time they brought a girl or boy up to their room and began to lift off their shirt. Latent homosexuality might be another cause. You fool yourself into thinking that you haven’t spent the last five minutes at the mall checking out that guy’s ass in those jeans. That kiss that you give everyone at the end of your party lingers just a little bit too long on your best friend’s cheek. The church is also another big no-no. A strict religious upbringing has the same effect as bad parenting does. You are all dirty sinners putting their hoo-hoos into somebody at the wrong time. Shame on you, the eyes of God are watching.
Yet none of that has ever happen to me. I’m not a homosexual, although it is flattering to go to the Gay 90’s with my gay roommate and have all the men hit on me. According to everyone I talk to I look gay because I’m clean-shaven and have good posture, somehow that exudes “gay”. It also doesn’t say much about the straight male population. Dirty hunchbacks. I haven’t been to church since I passed the age of nine. My parents were very open to talking about sex. They still casually bring it up in conversation whenever I go to visit them, and there has never been a moment that I haven’t hung my head in embarrassment.8

When I had “the talk” with my father, it was during dinner time. My girlfriend was over and we were all enjoying a nice braised beef. Quick glances were exchanged between my parents and my dad sat up from his seat in the middle of dinner. “Andrew, could you come with me for a moment?” This could only mean horrible things were going to happen. Any time my parents conferred in private with me, it meant I was in trouble. My head was a rush with any and all actions I might have done wrong within the last couple days. We slowly walked up the stairs to the second floor, each step taking effort for me, but also seemingly for my father. He led me to his office, and set two chairs facing each other, motioning with his hand that he intended for me to sit in one of these chairs. I sat and came up with a checklist of apologies. He sat in front of me, staring me directly in the eyes. “Now you’re getting to that age where you’re going to be having sex.” Dear lord… I was flabbergasted. Of all the times to have the sex talk it was in the middle of dinner with my girlfriend downstairs. Unable to speak at this point I decided to recess my conscious self back into a day dream, hoping that my mind would reject this conversation from long term and short term memory. “Well, I just want you to know that you should use protection. You don’t want a bunch of little Andrews running around.” With those words of wisdom done, he stood up, and walked back down to dinner.
It’s not that I don’t like sex, I guess it’s just because things have never gone the way that I’ve planned. 9

Gina was my first girlfriend was in Jr. High. We did what I guess what the standard back then of “Let’s not talk, hold hands, or even look at each other” although I always asked if she wanted to go out on a date. She broke up with me by slipping a gold lettered, purple paper note in my locker. Not knowing the contents I saved reading the note for a special occasion, right before my big wresting match.10

My next girlfriend was the product of a broken heart. The girl that I had a crush on for two years rejected me at a dance and Tasha swooped in minutes later. She was the first girl that I ever kissed. We were backstage, wrapped in the heavy black stage curtain. She taught me how to French kiss with a surveying audience containing 5 of her best friends surrounding our little curtain cocoon. She left, going off to giggle with her friends while I stood with the curtain wrapped around my midsection, desperately thinking of baseball. Tasha came back minutes later; I thought to save me, but instead stood and laughed at my plight with her friends.11

The first time I ever groped a breast was on Susan, and my best friend walked into the room. I lay there with my hand up her shirt, refusing to back down from this epic achievement, as I had a casual conversation with my friend.12

I didn’t want to have sex with my first “real” girlfriend Melissa. We lay in bed, me above her, a condom on and me hesitating. Sure I loved the girl, but this was a big deal. We would both be losing out virginity. I started talking, trying to convince her that we should wait, make sure that we were ready for this leap in our relationship. She reached forward and grabbed my ass, driving me forward as I fell inside her. 13

shit shit shit shit shit14

“Wha… well…. Umm… are you ok?” A simple groan was all I received as she nodded her head and pulled me back and forth, ensuring that I was also participating in the momentous occasion. We started to get into it, accepting the completion that we felt in each other. Then the condom broke. 15

Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit16

Perfection, I have found you after such a long search. After my messy breakup from a three year relationship with Oriana, I was in a depression, a funk. I was a reject, an unwanted scourge on the earth. I consoled myself by relying on the oldest medicine known to mend broken hearts, alcohol and failed attempts to pick up women at bars. The place was the Gay 90’s, seemingly a horrible place for a straight man to hit on women, yet an unknown treasure trove of loose women. Oh yes, for women descend upon the 90’s in order to escape the everyday harassment of regular club rat men. I was flying high with the depressant consisting of straight shots of gin and the only thing standing between me and rejection at the 90’s was a stop at one of my roommates friend’s house. The plan was we would stop over, have a drink, and then be dropped off by one of the roommates at the bar. Fully expecting to meet another one of Matt’s unattractive friends my mind was fixated on nothing except for the surefire hangover that I would be nursing the next day.17

She was inside, a girl that worked with Matt downtown at Target. Her hair was a very light, bleach blond mop of disheveled beauty. It stopped above the shoulder, framing a lustrous face. She had blue eyes, beauteous rare gems that reflected light and threatened to absorb me in their pooling grace. Her makeup and facial features spoke of a gothic princess. Dark and mysterious, yet also hinting at a rare form of innocence built not from ignorance, but of too much information of the world not yet inflicted upon the soul.18

She stood my height and held out one pale hand to greet us. I instantly sobered up, my brain ejecting the alcohol in order to allow me to formulate comprehensive sentences. I introduced myself, and she introduced herself as Margaret. The night was filled with my impressive exploits of prestidigitation, as I deployed all my witticisms in every situation that came to light. Ever the charmer, I grasped her attention and we exchanged numbers. 19

In the following days we dabbled in each other’s company, guessing what the other one would be like if we decided to bring our relationship to fruition. I asked her on a date, making the first move to initiate a real bond between the two of us. The conversation was lighthearted and warm, each of us only wanting our pasta dinner to end in order to fulfill the wanton behavior that young adults in young love wish to perform. Underneath the table our legs kept touching, neither of us willing to part from this childish form of affection that we displayed in public. We finished the dinner and were quick to place down a disproportionate amount of cash on the table for the lucky waiter as we made our way to the door. As we walked back to the car I dare let my hand make a wistful pass over to hers. She quickly grasped onto mine, and we strolled to the parking lot, leaned in close to each other. We were the picture perfect couple ending a romantic night. 20

We slammed into the door at her place, unable to contain our lust. The hard metal providing a flat surface to lie against as our hands explored each other’s bodies. We broke our connection only long enough to breathe and twist the handle on the door to the right, allowing us to slip inside. 21

We were on each other again soon enough, frantically kissing each other as she walked backwards to her bedroom, shedding clothing along the way until we fell over into her bed wearing the bare minimum. I inspected the perfection that was her, trying not to show my astonishment that a girl like her would actually go to bed with a person like me. I kissed up the sides of her arm, enjoying the feeling of her bare skin against my lips. Her perfume tickled my senses as I kissed around the sides of her neck; sweet and flowery, lovely like her. She lifted her head up from the bed, and bit deep into my shoulder.22

My face contorted in pain, grimacing in stunned amazement. Did she just bite me? Does she think she’s a vampire? That really hurt. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’ve gone this far already just, go with it, it’s probably just the passion. I continued kissing her, following the contours of her body with my tongue. Her breathing came in quick little spurts. I teased my way closer and closer to the precious hidden place of23

Fuuuuuuuck!24

She grasped my hair in one hand and pulled me harshly towards her face. She kissed me softly and whispered “Pull my hair.”
The commands came quickly after that. Pull my hair was followed by bite me, slap me, hurt me. Her nails dug deep into my back, causing small droplets of blood to form on my skin.
After everything was over she lay next to me, sleeping with a small smile on her face. I curled up in the corner of the bed, aching from my shoulder, back, face and head.25

*sigh* looks like the search will continue. 26

I’ve met a few women through the U of M. One decided that it would be best to talk to me while looking at a book of naked men in various sexual poses. 27

Cassie, a long time friend, asked if I wanted to be friends with benefits. 28

I was invited to a sex party by my last girlfriend Angie.29

Cybering is now acceptable if two people knew each other in high school. 30

I have a date tonight. I met Jolene through church and after weeks of light flirting she agrees to go on a date with me. She’s attending the University of Minnesota and in a few more years will have a bachelor’s degree in business management with a minor in finance. I take her out to a play by the famous playwright Anton Chekhov. Afterwards we talk about the messages put forth by the writer over a nice dinner. She owns her own house in NE Minneapolis, and afterwards we go back to her place to finish the night out with a movie. She chooses Finding Nemo. I nervously place my arm around her in the middle of the movie and she leans into me, accepting my embrace. She’s a sweet girl and I kiss her forehead at the end of the night, expecting to call her the next day. She tells me to wait, and shows me around the house, asking me questions about the various construction problems that she still has to deal with. The last door she brings me to she stops in front of. “And this is my bedroom…” she pauses, looking shy and blushes lightly. “Would you care to see it?” I smile and laugh, reassuring her that she doesn’t have to worry about anything.31

Inside the light pink room her walls are adorned with pictures of her family and a cross. It’s cute and girly. Her computer is a light gray MacBook covered in stickers of smiley faces and cute sayings like “you are loved”. Multiple glass eyes stare at me from across the room; a large assortment of teddy bears, and other stuffed animals no doubt having some significance; a gift from a father, old boyfriend, or grandparent who has since passed on. A small TV sits on her dresser with the movie 27 dresses on top of it. Across from the TV is her bed, set in-between a wrought iron headboard and footboard. Two objects dangle from the headboard and footboard. Handcuffs. 32

She pushes me on the bed and in the corner of my eye I see a leather riding crop whip behind the door.33

My eyes shoot open in surprise and as she straddles over my midsection she says “Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”34

*sigh*