Ah, one of the greatest tragedies of all time: You find Mr. Right, but he’s all kinds of wrong in the sack. The only problem with this particular tragedy is we’re not prepared for it.
Like most self-respecting Americans, I let the media be my guide for everything. For the most part, the media has accurately told me what to expect in every phase of life.
Before I went to middle school, I knew I'd be dealing with puberty, my first crush and cliquey girls. Before I went to high school, I knew to expect homecoming, prom and my first drink. Before I went to college, I knew to expect Greek life, hot professors and hungover brunches with roommates.
So I had no reason to believe the media would be wrong about my sex life.
Every television and movie out there says if I’m with the right person, the sex will always be great.
Allie and Noah from "The Notebook" didn’t fall madly and deeply in love, only to find that Noah had a micropenis. When Carrie and Burger had sex for the first time on "Sex and the City," sure, it was a little awkward, but then it got AWESOME. On "Friends," Rachel managed to have good sex with ROSS. Even Summer Roberts and nerdy Seth Cohen from "The OC" managed to have some crazy hot sex.
Rule of thumb in film and television: If you are having sex with Mr. Right, that sex will be fantastic. Only giant douches -- like Jon Hamm’s character in that awkward first sex scene in "Bridesmaids" -- are bad in bed.
But in this case, the media failed me. The fact of the matter is, I've learned first-hand that a guy can be great. He can buy flowers and be so hilarious and nice and super hot.
He can be all this -- and also absolutely f*cking terrible in bed.
A while back, I met a great guy at a bar. We started chatting, and the banter was great right off the bat. Plus, he was hot. I mean, super hot. Like, hottest-guy-I’ve-ever-been-with hot.
We had one of those first dates that feels like magic. He texted me immediately after to ask when he could see me again, and I got butterflies in the pit of my stomach, the way you’re supposed to when you really, really like someone.
So we kept dating. He took me to great restaurants and fun bars and would do those little adorable things like hold my hand while we were driving, text me “Sleep tight” and call me “babe” -- you know, the things you find repulsive unless you're actually extremely into somebody.
On our fifth date, the sexual tension was palpable. We hadn’t been ~intimate~ yet, and I just knew that tonight was going to be the night. He held my hand as we walked back to his apartment and even just locking our fingers felt electric. This was going to be great.
We started fooling around and, around 30 underwhelming seconds later, it was over.
I would call them the most awkward 30 seconds of my life, but that would be leaving out the several other 30-second encounters we had for weeks and weeks after this.
I just wasn’t ready to give up on this guy. It didn’t make sense! A hot guy I was insanely attracted to -- who also happened to be one of the nicest, best guys I have ever been with -- just CANNOT be bad in bed.
And if he is, what does that even mean? Is that the be-all and end-all? Would I be shallow for ending such a good thing over this?
This had to be a Carrie-and-Burger-type situation, in that it got better with time. He was just nervous, I was just nervous, and the previous bad experiences made everything even more awkward than they already were. That must have been it, right?
That wasn’t it. I tried. I really did. I wanted it to work. Why wouldn’t I? I had a shot at something great.
I honestly wouldn’t consider myself a hypersexual being. But who doesn’t like a good pork (yes, pork)?
The only thing that separates your romantic relationships from your other relationships is the presence of sex. And I can promise you that if the sex is bad, you will not be doing a whole lot of it. So you might as well just give up and be friends.
Here’s the truth that the movies never show us: Sometimes, biology just doesn’t want two people to be together, no matter how great the banter is or strong the sexual tension.
Sure, you can give it time -- and for lots of people, that’s enough -- but, to put it simply, all the quippy conversation and physical attraction in the world won’t change a mediocre dick.