The Science of (Bad) Sex


Just got back from a nice vacation with my sister and her boyfriend. (who I do like, C!) And she reminded me of a story that deserves to be told to all of you lovely and  patient people.


Also inspired by the date I had this weekend with a man who was gorgeous but the worst kisser I have ever experienced in my entire life including both elementary school and the time G burped in my mouth while we were frenching.


In high school, I was dating G. The boy I lost my virginity to. Sex with him was consistently bad. He was unimaginative, unadventurous, squeamish, and very shy about his body.


We never had oral sex because he didn’t want to. We never even had digital sex (handjobs or fingering) again because he didn’t want to. In fact, there was little to no foreplay. I didn’t even really know what all that was about until the third guy I slept with almost 3 years later.


I remember the first time we had sex I was lying there thinking “I don’t get what all this hype is about sex. People risk STDs and pregnancy for THIS?!” It definitely did not seem worth it. And it continued to not seem worth it for the duration of our sexual relationship.


We kept doing it, though. I was determined to figure out what the appeal was. My sex drive had stemmed from scientific interest in the process and the desire to understand human emotions/sensations. Plus, I just KNEW there had to be something magical about it.


I hate to say it, but at this point, my experience and desire has not changed. I have had mostly bad sex in my life. I feel that most straight men are just not very good in bed. No offense guys, but I have a lot of experience in this area.


But once, while I was still in high school and having sex with G, we were hanging out at my house with my little sister, J. She and I shared a room right up until I moved out.


I pulled G aside and asked him if he wanted to have sex in my childhood bed. Of course he did, who wouldn’t?


So we told my sister we would be upstairs for a while and commenced to getting it on. Now, you would think J would know better than to come upstairs and enter our shared room without knocking.


But you would be wrong.


She shoved the door open and was privy to a no doubt shocking eyeful of G’s hairy ginger-blonde ass. G and I were doing missionary (what else?) so she was thankfully spared the image of my naked body.


She screamed, slammed the door, and ran down stairs to sit on the couch, traumatized. And hopefully having learned an important lesson in knocking when the door is closed.


G pulled out immediately as the mood was most definitely unceremoniously halted. But I looked him right in the eye and demanded he get it up again and finish fucking me. And god bless that teenage boy, because he did as he was told.


I am a little ashamed that I had just wanted to finish. But in the name of science, research, and discovery; I really wanted to get off.