I really like this guy. But the sex is kind of awkward. I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s him. Something is not working. Have you ever experienced something like this?
-Diary of an Awkward Black Girl
Dear Diary of an Awkward Black Girl,
Sometimes it seems all I have are stories. So, here’s another one. Once upon a time I thought Bobby and I had sex. A cosmic journey created a solar eclipse where his shortcomings punctuated our first time. After dating Bobby for weeks, I considered, consummating our courtship. He wanted me to come over to see his place. I pictured a candle-lit dinner and wine.
I arrived at an apartment with stuff everywhere. A dining room table littered with empty bottles of wine, dishes in the sink, and a couch covered in clothes. After I came all this way, I expected wine and dinner in a clean environment. Was this courtship charting a celestial course?
Living in a city where you can’t see the stars, we focused on lighted skyscrapers to guide our lonely nights. His disorganized room left me disoriented. “Sorry for the mess, I was busy today,” he said. “My pops is home but, we can do a little something.”
I sat on yesterday’s paper to realize that this date was about to be old news. I couldn’t imagine us having sex while his father walked by with fresh laundry.
I found a bottle of Sweet Bitch on the table and poured me a glass. Things were not going according to plan. Great expectations left us with less optimistic “sexpectations.” “I want to show you something,” he said. I responded, “It better be something I can enjoy.”
He smiled and brought out a brown box. It contained 100 paper dolls. They all looked like Mariah Carey, before the money. Seeing the 5-octave diva, stripped down to her poorest form, duplicated and held captive in the box near the place he stored his porn, had me searching for a hero. It had a Silence of the Lambs— rub the lotion on its skin, unless you get the hose again—vibe about it.
“Oh, so what are you planning to do with those?” I asked.
“I want you to dress them,” he said.
I won’t be silencing Mariah’s lambs by making dresses from my skin. I refused to go from styling models to dressing dolls. I didn’t know why the dolls fascinated him. I didn’t ask. Did he think he would get lucky that night, by playing Chucky? “Oh shit! I think he’s coming in.” He said.
Bobby grabbed that box of dolls and shoved them back into his closet. He thought his dad was entering the room, but went into the bathroom instead. Bobby grabbed me by the hand and walked me over to the couch. We kissed, while he reached in his pants to pull it out.
It was tiny. I jerked it with two fingers to wake it up. It wouldn’t grow. I couldn’t imagine him fucking with that small dick. He grabbed a condom and a pink dildo. Ever the optimist, he jerked it off. The condom draped over his dick like a plastic turtle-neck sweater. It looked like a finger in a zip-lock bag.
He took turns fingering me with a dildo and pushing his penis in. I bent over the couch reaching for a glass of wine while he tried to get his fun size dick in. I couldn’t tell if he made it in or not.
If you don’t have meat, learn how to eat.
Unfortunately, neither the planets nor the stars could predict his premature ejaculation. His personal Milky Way oozed out like cosmic sperm: at the speed of light.
It’s not unusual to feel insecure or awkward about the sex you’re having or not having in the beginning. Sometimes when two people connect under the covers it’s not quite a happy meal. And that’s okay too. I don’t know if I’ll be waiting around for him to disappoint me again. It’s 2018, and we have no tolerance for bad sex, sad sex, unsafe sex, awkward sex, or forced sex.
We are in charge of our own orgasms. We no longer have to be the goddess on our knees eager to please. And that’s empowering.
Make sure to also checkout previous Love Walter columns here
Got a question? Email your letters at [email protected] His advice column will appear on Wednesday.