Round ½.

Having sex with a new partner is always nerve wrecking. You never know if you’ll get the five-second jack rabbit or the energizer bunny that just keeps going and going and going….


I can’t remember a “first time” when it was actually good. It’s either too fast, too slow, or a failure to launch followed by an awkward smile exchange between “Guy X” and I. This is then followed by an even more awkward conversation of how it never happened before. I’m sure it didn’t.

I generally revert to the standard missionary position to leave plenty of room for creativity later. I’d wait until the third date (at least) to bring out the whips and chains. Just kidding, the fourth date seems more appropriate.
Sigi was my first post break up sex. He had dark brown hair, the greenest eyes, and eyelashes so long it even made me jealous. He was sweet, I was vulnerable and if I’m going to be honest– I wanted ass. I figured what better way to get over your ex than to dive right into the deep end of the pool, right? I know – ”spare me the lecture that emotions and such won’t change but hey – ”a gal has needs other than a double A vibrator. Yes, Sandra Fay used a man for his penis. It’s not the worst thing one has done to mankind.
He unbuttoned my shirt and effortlessly removed the pants. Smooth. We were off to a great start. Maybe this “first time” wouldn’t be so bad. We headed to foreplay. Check. He was passing with flying colors. And then came the sex.

He started breathing hard. I ignored it by brushing it off as normal and focusing all my energy on achieving the big O feeling. He’s panting and out of breath, sounding completely exasperated by the motions. The funny thing was I was doing all the work.

Oh my god is he having a heart attack? How is that possible? He’s not a fat man? Am I going to kill him and end up on the front cover of the newspaper as the sex killer? I imagined myself barely clothed and speaking to a police officer on the corner of the street attempting to explain how he died during sex. The siren lights flashing and pulled over illegally on the sidewalk while bystanders slowed down to gawk at the yellow line marking of the crime scene. That would definitely be a first time.

I’m distracted. Suddenly, all that buildup for the grand O experience dissipates. I feel like I ran all the way to the boat dock only to watch the boat sail away into the sun. Nothing is more frustrating than a missed orgasm. I remember that he’s still heaving. I suppose I should be concerned with his health. But damn, I was so close. I slow it down to a complete stop.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he assures me.

I could have let it go but I needed to know.

“Are you okay?” I probe.

He looks away.

“I think I could use a glass of water,” he admits.

Erectile dysfunction? Fine. Not in the mood? Okay.

We had stopped in the middle of sex for a water break. This was unheard of.
While he went to get his water, I lied on his bed and stared at the cracks in the ceiling of his room. I resisted the urgency to reach for my cellphone and call my best friend Ellie to get some insight on the situation. Plus, it probably wouldn’t have been the brightest idea to have Sigi see me explaining the story to her when it was still – ”incomplete. Of all the “first times” I’ve had, this was truly a first time for me. When the frustration of losing an orgasm went away, stage two kicked in – ”my ego was completely shattered. Whatever little capabilities I thought I might have had in bed went out the window. Was it that bad? Maybe I sucked and forgot how to have sex. I made a mental note to stop by the bookstore on my way home. Before I knew it, he was back in the room and through a mutual exchange of glances, we agreed this session of sex had officially ended. It’s not discussed and I’m itching to know why.

“What happened?” I blurt. I had to know. He wasn’t getting off the hook that easily.

He explains to me that he was severely dehydrated from an alcohol spree he went on the night before and didn’t realize just how thirsty he was until that mid-sex moment. I didn’t buy it.

To this day, I still don’t know what had happened. I shudder when waitresses ever ask if I want a glass of water.