I made some really terrible decisions recently. I am not proud of them. In fact, they go against most of the things I stand for, and I regret letting things get out of hand. Let’s break it down so I get embarrassed and never do it again:
First: Getting drunk. Usually I don’t have a problem getting drunk. I did have a problem with getting THAT drunk. The hangover made it almost not worth it. Whiskey is not my friend, nor will it ever be. That night may have changed my mind about drinking heavily… the thing is I don’t remember drinking that much. I had maybe 6-8 shots over the course of several hours (all in mixed drinks, never straight) and somehow, I ended up making the choices I said I wasn’t going to. Brilliant.
Second: Sex. Don’t get me wrong, sex is great. But this sex was licentious. I was completely disregarding my values and ideals regarding sex for the primal urges. This sex was not by any means amazing. This sex was dim witted (on my part, obviously licentious.) Almost annoying. Whiskey dick had struck him and I was forced into a position (not literally, well I guess literally) where I was forced to do most of the work, if you get my drift. He kept asking me to go down on him (in hopes of getting it up) and whenever I would, we’d have about 30 seconds of intercourse before he was soft again. Annoying.
But I don’t think you understand how annoying it actually was. The most annoying part of this entire ordeal is that I had hooked up with this guy once before, drunker, in fact (we’re talking black out) and had the same issue: severe drunk dick. It was a similarly upsetting experience and I did not have sex with him (partially cause I didn’t want to, partially because I was “saving myself for someone special,” which he teased me about the other night, but honestly didn’t bother me.) I guess I kind of made it a personal mission at one point to a) meet up with this guy again, drunk and b) have awesome sex with him – because obviously the chemistry was there and needed to be ignited.
Back to the most annoying sex of my entire life, I decide it’s far to degrading to tease him about not being able to get hard (he’s being hard enough on himself as it is) telling me how much he wants to fuck me and yadda yadda yadda. I go “great. Get a condom.”
And here’s what takes us to the biggest failure of the evening: Sex without a condom.
Ugh. I regret it. I regret it so hard I wish I could beat myself up more for it, but the hangover enough taught me a lesson. Well sort of. An STD would really teach me a lesson, but fuck that. No thanks. I asked for one, it was finally materialized (hah. He had to go downstairs and ask his roommate for one. Cute.) and promptly ignored. Erections were so inconsistent that getting the condom on would have been a buzz-kill and a half. Miserable. Ugh. It was terrible. And that’s when I think the drunk girl in me, gave up, and just went with it. He kept asking if I was on birth control, I kept not answering, and we kept having sex… until he finally came and we collapsed on the bed.
I fell asleep in his arms. That was the best thing about the night: the spooning was orgasmic. There’s something incredible about a man who makes you feel tiny wrapped in his arms.
I guess when I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of my entire life, I figured out it wasn’t worth the trouble. I felt guilty, like I’d betrayed someone… not just myself. I think it’s because I have sincere feelings for the Self Depricator that I’m not exactly comfortable with. I’m afraid to tell him, and I think it’s because I care what he thinks.
Oh. And my period just started? What a day.