Here’s the thing: I’m notorious for doing things even when I say I’m not going to do them. As in, I have absolutely no willpower or self-control. I also believe that responsibility is overrated, and how are you going to have any fun if you’re always saying ‘no’?
Oh, and alcohol makes me horny. Oh, and I LOVE alcohol.
The night was SO dark and SO cold, and I was trying SO hard not to be a baby about it all. Finally, he noticed me shivering and gave me the warmest, softest, little green blanket ever (which I totally stole the next morning), wrapped it around me, and took my hand. Here we go. A friendly movie night was beginning to turn into something else, I could already tell. We were about two glasses of wine deep at that point, and there was still another bottle to drink. He was getting more snuggly. I was debating my choices and their consequences.
A. Stop drinking now, refrain from saying anything about the other full bottle, and have a 50% chance of not getting in bed with him.
B. Stop drinking after this glass, try not to say anything about the other full bottle, and have a 25% chance of not getting in bed with him.
C. Finish this glass, open the full bottle, and have a 0% chance of not getting in bed with him.
I’m proud of myself for realizing how quickly Pinot Noir affects my judgment and attempting to make choices accordingly.
However, if you know me at all, you’ll know exactly what I did.
D. None of the above.
I finished my glass, said nothing about the full bottle, but didn’t resist when HE opened it and filled my glass. Not trying to be rude. Also not trying to be sober. Just trying to make good decisions. Good decisions though, are also overrated.
After the movie, he announced, ‘Bed time!’ and dragged me from the couch to the giant bed with the down comfortable and 18 pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets, a.k.a. the most comfortable bed ever. I was practically asleep as soon as I hit the pillow because it was THAT awesome, and then I felt his hands all over me.
M: Your boobs got bigger.
Me: Yea, I noticed that too.
M: Are you pregnant?
M: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I just finished my period.
M: Are you sure?
Me: Am I sure that blood was coming out of my vagina at rapid speeds??
Next thing I know I’m face down on the perfectly pressed white sheets with his uncircumcised cock behind me. I’m wishing I didn’t notice the sheets.
Me: This is not your bed.
M: I know. It’s my sister’s.
Me: WHAT? It’s your sister’s? The one with the OCD? Where is she?
M: She’s out of town. I told you that.
Me: Oh. Well you better clean these sheets and you better hope your shit doesn’t stain.
I think about the fact that she’s definitely going to know we had sex in her bed, even if he buys her new sheets, because she’s super neurotic and notices every. single. microscopic. thing.
The dirty talk is fun. The sex is okay. His penis is very touch and go. Like a blowfish or something. It doesn’t maintain its hardness. Sometimes I ask him how it feels. He always says my pussy is amazing. His dick is not small or anything, but it’s not huge either, so unless it’s super hard I won’t get off. Later I ask him why it doesn’t stay rock hard the whole time. He says it’s just blood flow. I tell him to make his blood flow more. Or harder. Or something. He tells me I don’t have a penis (duh) and I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.
Me: Well no one ELSE’S penis does that.
M: Yes they do.
Me: How the fuck do you know?
M: Why are you talking to me about someone else’s penis???
Me: I really didn’t think we were gonna have sex.
M: What made you think that?
Haha. He’s right. We ALWAYS have sex when we see each other. Even if we don’t plan on it. I tell him I don’t know why I thought that, but then, because I’m drunk, I tell him the real reason.
Me: I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago because I had a yeast infection that wouldn’t go away.
M: And? (sort of freaking out)
Me: Well they told me it wasn’t just a yeast infection.
M: And?? (totally freaking out)
Me: They told me…
(I’m really mean)
It was just a bacterial infection that I had to take antibiotics for. They also tested me for STDs, but they all came out negative (YES!). They told me to use condoms every time. Hence NY Resolution #1. Which I’ve already failed at. And I really don’t know why I made that resolution anyway. Something to work toward?
The doctor told me it’s possible that whoever I’m sleeping with has the bacteria and/or the yeast and that we could be passing it back and forth. And yet I didn’t tell him about it beforehand, slept with him, and didn’t use a condom. Because I’m self-destructive like that.
On the up side, I am viewing this as an experiment for all girls with chronic infections like me. Do we REALLY need to use condoms to prevent them? Can guys really get yeast infections and spread them to girls? Or do we just need to wash their junk and give THEM some kind of antibiotic so they stop giving us the awful annoying infection?
Results coming soon. The only down side to this is that I might have to plan another trip to the ghetto-ass Planned Parenthood in Boyle Heights. But it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the sake of vaginas everywhere.