This post is very much NSFW and kind of horrifying so if you’re squeamish, very conservative or easily emotionally distraught look away now, friends.
This post is also very much the opposite of my previous post about myself and the Little Chef.
Settle down, friends and let me tell you about the most disappointing sexual experience I’ve ever had. I should start off by saying that the fact it was a one night stand was not what made it disappointing, the casual fuck aspect of it was actually what I had been craving. What made it so disappointing was complete lack of sexual skill or technique and the fact he possessed none was shocking to me. Let me explain why..
The man in question whom the one night stand was with was a guy about 4 years my senior whom I’d been out on one date with a year previous. The sexual chemistry was very much there but I was fresh out of a long term relationship (more on that later) and not at all ready to jump into bed with this fella. He also worked for one of Dublin’s best known sex shops. So for now let’s call him Dildo Baggins.
Fast-forward a year and there I was sitting in one of Dublin’s best known sports bars. Exactly my kind of scene: good beer, good food, there was always a match on the big screens. This was shaping up to be a great date/prelude to sex.
4 hours of cheap beer, kamikaze shots and electric sexual banter later I was ready to find out what I’d passed up a year ago in a bid to keep my nose clean. As it turns out, not much. Back to the hotel Dildo Baggins and I went and immediately he brings up the subject of splitting the hotel bill. Now I’m no princess when it comes to pulling my own weight financially. In fact, financial dependancy makes me hugely uncomfortable but this was uneasy. Could he not have brought this up when we were still in a haze of lust and 10€ pitchers of beer rather than in front of the hotel concierge? After some faff with splitting a bill between two cards he ended up paying with me promising to get the cash to him by the weekend (fyi this all happened on a Thursday).
I want to be very coquettish and say that my desire was ‘suitably dampened’ but in reality my libido had left the building and hailed a cab back home as soon as I was shamed in front of the concierge. Why didn’t I leave, you ask? By this stage I has an ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ attitude. After coming all the way over town I may well get my bit. Gritty but true.
Then we get to the sex. FINALLY. The kisses alluded to something much more promising. A man who works in a sex shop for a living is a sure bet for a good fuck, right? WRONG! So very wrong. After 20 minutes of stellar head from me (tooting my own horn here yes, but it’s my favourite kind of foreplay fyi) he runs his hands through my hair and I hear a gruff ‘come up here to me’. He pushes me onto my back, finally a bit of dominance out of him things are starting to look up, and then he grips my ankles and puts them on either side of his shoulders. Now, I love a bit of dominance and 9/10 times I have sex I am every inch the submissive but this was painful. Too much, too soon. After a solid 15 minutes of this it got the the stage where I wished I’d ditched him and went home with some Supermacs instead. So I try to coax him into fucking me from behind. No such luck. His exact words were ‘this is great but can we go back to doing it my way’. Cringe.
I got so fed up with wincing and him hammering away that I faked the urge to pee just to get a break. Once I got back he seemed to want to try the foreplay thing again. Good sign right? WRONG! Heavy handed is not even the word for this guy. This is what I was talking about when I imagined other girls in my position having a soliloquy in bed
“Does he think it’s a lucky-dip? This is not low budget porn. I find it hard to take more than 2 fingers now get your hand away from there!?”
As it happens all of this heavy handed hand action was part of him seeking out the tip of the condom which was inside me. Because it broke. I was unaware of this meanwhile he was rummaging around in my poor vagina. This was traumatising on many levels:
- He didn’t tell me! I discovered the tip myself the next day in the bathroom. I was still wallowing in self loathing as it was as the previous night was my first casual sexual encounter but to have to deal with the added sexual health concern as well as that? Panic stations!
- This is a good looking guy who’s a bit of a charmer. I doubt he’s squeaky clean to begin with.
- I knew myself that he was a real jack the lad but I didn’t know he was so much of a git that if he’d found it he would’ve been happy enough to let me go on my way only to text me in 6 months letting me know about the surprise he’s left me.. IN MY VAGINA.
The night ended with a lackluster cumshot and me explaining that I don’t do sleepovers.
Fast forward to the next day and I was at panic stations. I’m hyper-vigilant about contraception so I got myself Norlevo and went on my way. The next day I dropped the cash into him in his job and explained my situation and he responded with ‘Ah sure, I was locked’. Part of this is my own fault; I was expecting manners from a manwhore.
What happened next is a little more upsetting. I waited 3 months to go for my sexual health screening. I presented no symptoms, but then again neither do most sexually transmitted diseases. I waited so long because I was petrified. I had told no one about the one night stand with Dildo Baggins and I didn’t intend to.
The screening did come back clear but it still took an effect on me and I’m surprised to say it’s a positive one. It made me so much more aware sexually. I thought I’d become even more of a crazy, emotionally dead inside spinster because of the circumstance but apparently not! It just taught me to look out for more than a cheesy dick.
You may have been a bad life choice and a lousy lay, Dildo Baggins but thanks for the memories albeit laughable memories.
Ps. Sort your chest hair out. I could make dreads for the hipsters in the Workman’s Club out of it.
Yeah.. So, that happened. I’m glad I got that off my chest. Very cleansing!
It’s a big ask but I would actually love to hear from the people who are liking and following the blog. I feel like Julie Powell when she thinks no one reads her blog and then her mother comments.
If there is a God, please don’t let that happen. If not, Hi Mam!