How could sex not feel good because of some thin layer of latex?
But then again, I'd always only had sex with condoms.
So I didn't know the difference.
Then, out of sheer curiosity, I set up an experiment.
Sex for an hour with a condom.
Then continue sex with no condom.
HOLYFUCKINGSHIT.
THAT.
IS.
DIFFERENT.
Ok.
I get it.
I get it.
The intensity felt by raw, condom free sex is different.
It feels good.
But you know SEX feels good.
It certainly didn't suck with the condom.
You know what does suck?
Men who don't respect you.
Men who give zero fucks about your body or the fact that your sexual health is important to you.
I was seeing a guy these past few months who knew.
K N E W.
How I felt about unprotected sex.
Not on the menu, asshole.
And the one time it happened I took accountability because like I said
E/xpe/ri/ment.
And he said that was totally fine and it wasn't an issue again.
Cool.
Respect.
I appreciate that.
And then.
THEN.
One night I was drunk.
REALLY drunk.
Kind of impressed I didn't fall off the bed drunk.
And in my whiskey haze I managed to hand him a condom.
Which he did put on.
And after more haze I realized he was finishing.
And he was finishing on me.
He'd taken off the condom.
And my haze suddenly felt confused.
It took a couple days for it to really sink in.
The fact I'd had four stiff drinks and he'd had one beer.
The fact he'd entered me while I still had my underwear on and when after I don't know how long, I realized we were already having sex, that was when I'd reached for the condom.
The fact that the casual hookups I had always respected me enough to wrap it without it being such a fucking issue and the kid I was letting sleep in my sheets didn't.
And I wasn't okay.
So I texted him.
And I told him I shouldn't have to mention this again but if he needs to have sex without a condom then he needs to find a new partner.
And he didn't respond.
For days.
And I realized that I'd known for awhile this guy was not my match and I sent another text and told him I wanted to call it.
And when I finally heard back from him he took no responsibility for what he'd done.
He condescended that I wasn't being accountable.
Because it wasn't his fault.
And his tone.
Shit, his tone was as disrespectful as his hands had been with my body.
And I ran.
Hard.
I assume the men who'll mistreat me might be the strangers I fuck.
But I certainly didn't see it coming from the goofy schmuck who hadn't wanted to stop seeing each other when I tried a month ago because relationships are complicated and you just work through them.
What a crock of shit.
Stay the fuck away from my temple.
You don't deserve to feel or smell it.
I trusted your hands to pleasure me not misuse me.
And have the decency to acknowledge the choice YOU made.
Rather than turn the blame on these breasts and this face.
Because you KNEW I was more drunk than I've ever been.
So you took as you pleased.
And curious enough, that was the last time our bodies would be in close proximity.
And now I know your true color.
And that difference in pleasure for you, that intensity for a moment of your night, proves that you and only you matters to you in this room.
And this town.
And all of you, you men who will never know the fear of unwanted pregnancy, who never know the uncomfortable nervousness of waiting to hear if your vagina had been declared "Normal" think it unreasonable that we want you to wear a condom.
I don't want your crabs and I don't want your bastard.
And if we're in love and exclusive and commited then fine.
Maybe we can discuss that intensified intensity.
But you, you fucking loser who wondered why I'd never been to the sleazy dive bar right near my place, with gambling machines and duct tape on the seats,
YOU DONT KNOW ME AT ALL.
And I'm thankful, I'm grateful you served your purpose and helped me transition and stop missing the man I will never be with and may never fully be over.
But you never knew me.
Or understood me.
Or valued me.
And that.
That, Chad Smith, is actually YOUR fault.
You remembered me from Okcupid a year ago and the message I never responded to.
But when I was finally in your arms you cherished none of it.
And any man who doesn't respect my body when I overwhelmingly WORSHIP it, can find another hole to pleasure himself in.
Wrap your fucking dick or get the fuck away from me.
I
Can't
Believe
I have to even say it.
What is wrong with you?
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