Wine was chilling in the cooler, Take Care was playing in the background and 20 year old me was ready to get this show on the road. Sex, I mean. I was finally ready to have ‘the sex’. I say finally because pre 2012, I didn’t think I would ever be ready to have sex.
I love to read, so I’d read all the books; “the tall dark handsome man walked into the room and Isabelle just knew he was the one- he was the one she was saving herself for” Garbage like that. Usually about the one, usually about love. Problem is I didn’t believe in love. And good girls only had sex because they were in love. That’s what the books all said.
But I digress.
Take Care is playing, he kisses my neck and assures me of his love for me. I cringe a little. When does this get good? There’s an attempt at head, some more awkward kissing (was that a lick?). He gets out his condom, fumbles with it for a while, puts it on.
“Oh you’re mad cuz nobody ever did it like meee”
It’s so painful. I almost kick him off and tell him I’ve changed my mind. He sees my discomfort and gets alarmed. He asks if he should stop.
Now I remember why I chose him. The nicest guy. I assure him I’m fine, I really want to do this.
He’s trying. Really trying. I can tell. He’s panting heavily, thrusting…
Drake doesn’t even get to tell us our neighbours will respect us. I go into the bathroom, I’m still in pain. I start to wash away the blood and I catch my reflection in the mirror. Was that it? Sadness, Annoyance, Bitterness sweep over me one after the other. Then I smile. I’m a big girl now. I manage a laugh.
“Are you okay baby?”
He’s on the other side of the door.
I come out of the bathroom feeling a little better.
“Did you enjoy it?”
I want to punch him in the throat.