What It's Like To Be A Girl Who Is Awkward AF During Sex
Sex is a touchy subject for me. As much as I am a BAMF in real life, my DGAF attitude doesn't carry over into the bedroom because that's always been a place of stress and insecurity for me. (I'll get into that later.)
A few months back, I picked up a guy at a bar because I have needs. We went back to his place. I wasn’t looking for anything special; I was just looking to get laid. It had been too damn long, and my vagina was beginning to grow suspicious as to what exactly its role in my life was.
We started getting into it, and he began to get…excited. And then, he did the thing I dread potentially the most out of all things sex-related: He pushed my head down toward his man parts.
With the crown of my head, I resisted against his hand, using every ounce of energy I had to keep from getting that dick shoved in my mouth. But he wouldn't budge. And I just didn’t want to do it. Like, dude, I just met you two hours ago. WTF did you do in life to deserve blowjobs from me? Besides, my life motto is, if I’m not getting it first, you aren’t getting it, period.
I knew I had to distract him to get out of the blowjob, so I began to tell a story. Yep. In the midst of our hump session, I stopped participating, covered his mouth with my hand, perched myself on him and delved into my past.
As I sat atop him and rambled on about why that homeless guy I saw at Venice Beach that one time on Memorial Day Weekend really reminded me of Bob Marley, I watched -- and felt -- him go from rock hard to limp dick.
And then, he said two little words to me that stuck with me beyond the confines of his douche-y bedroom walls: "You're weird."
That was the moment I realized I’m awkward as f*ck in the bedroom. I get really nervous and can’t shut the f*ck up, or I start laughing uncontrollably because being naked with some other naked person is just weird.
Or the exact opposite happens: I clam up because I don’t want to kill the moment and kind of just sit there, not rejecting the dude's sexual advances, but also not instigating them. I just stare at him like a deer in headlights.
Sober me has a tough time opening up with my body. I guess that’s just the way I’ve always been when things start to get hot and heavy. I've never been the girl who can just fling her clothes off and go in the for the kill, even when I know the guy is hard, horny and waiting. Unless I have a copious amount of alcohol in me.
I find it hard to go from zero to 60. We're told to carry ourselves a certain way during the day, whether it's in the office or out on the street. And then we're expected to break down our walls and shed our clothes, and it's supposed to feel like a seamless transition.
It doesn't feel seamless for me. I'm always afraid he'll get an unfortunate whiff of my armpits, which haven't had a visit from the deodorant fairy since the beginning of the day, or from my vagina, which I haven't prepared by eating pineapples the day before.
Not to mention that while men try to kiss and caress me, I prefer to bite and lick, which makes me feel like a complete freak.
But most of all, I don't know how to go from being sexy in conversation to sexy in bed. The two environments are completely different.
I guess all this just means I just haven't met the right person yet because the right person would be just as awkward as I am. At the end of the day, though, I just want to find someone with whom I can be my strange self in the bedroom, someone who won’t call me “weird” when I talk too much or forego cuddling with me because he doesn’t want to get burned by my freak rays.
Is that too much to ask?
Until then, my sex life will be limited to too-drunk-to-care one-night stands, and one-on-one self-love sessions with me and my hand.