What's better than a boyfriend? An imaginary one. Below you'll find out how the man of my dreams (literally) rescued me after my worst sexual experience.
(Image from Unsplash)
When it comes to imaginary boyfriends they are even greater than the real deal.
They don't need Christmas presents. You can come and go as you please. It's even easy to get on great with his mom.
In my case, my pretend boyfriend is more than a companion. He is my hero. My Romeo came to the rescue after one of the most terrible evenings of my young life.
*This fateful night occurred a year ago and I have remained celibate since
It starts off at my final year college formal in a fancy hotel. While dancing away with a generous bit of whiskey inside me, I am overcome by this fear.
College is nearly over.
I’m twenty-one and I have not indulged in my wild phase. Slutty college years, what are they? As I down the nearest glass of liquor, I catch the eyes of the best-looking guy my drunk goggles can see.
We begin to roam around the hotel, convincing ourselves we’re on an adventure. For hours we sit in the corridor talking about life. Of course, one thing led to another and we start kissing.
Now throughout my worst sexual experience, there are multiple red flags. Here is the first. He wants to find an unlocked hotel room and have sex.
After a failed attempt of breaking and entering, we get a cab. While driving toward our destination, he exposes the second red flag. He shares a room. Unfortunately, my drunk self is color blind so we keep on moving forward.
(GIF from WIX)
Once we're in the apartment, we start hooking up. You know, kissing, feeling each other up, all the usual stuff on his sorry excuse for a sofa (red flag number three). I get down to business and do my jobs and he starts to do the same. I do what every modern woman does and try to guide him towards making me cum. At his point, I might as well be trying to teach him Greek.
Despite the troubles, he confidently says, “Look I have an electric toothbrush if you want to try that." I think we're on red flag number four now?
I should have left then but I didn’t.
To try and reconcile the night, he breaks out his bong and we both have a bit. We go back to hooking up, but he suggests kicking it up a notch. With anal... Obviously, I decline his chivalrous offer.
After dodging the anal train, I attempt to go to sleep. He says goodnight while trying to leave me on his sofa. Naked. As we fall asleep underneath a blankie, I feel a boner tipping against my ass cheeks. Red flag six or seven at this point?
Again, I definitely should have left then but I didn’t.
Around 9 am the next morning we crawl into his room. I'm not sure if it was the sleep deprivation or a hangover but we get down to it; with no condom (this is ill-advised). Just like any guy would, he promises to pull out. I'm sure the ladies know how this promise usually ends.
You guessed it! I start panicking about the morning after pill while he begs to do it again. Now I'm definitely not in the mood. Adding to my exhaustion and anxiety, he reveals this is the first time he had sober sex. And that he is nineteen, not twenty-one like he told me before.
(Image from Unsplash)
After this news and another forty-five-second session, I finally go home in his tracksuit. As the cab pulled into my house, the driver says, “Oh I know your family.”
Great. A witness. Is there taxi-customer confidentiality? Because there should fucking be.
Once I washed away the regret with a nice shower cry session, I got the morning after pill for the first time in my life. Thankfully, he Venmo's me the money for the pill.
Ah, modern romance.
But the story doesn't end there.
Nine months and a global pandemic later, he slides into the DM’s. His message wasn't a "hey how are ya?" or "how's life been treating ya?" No. Instead, HE sends ME a Venmo request.
Our DMs unfold like so,
Me: “What’s up, do I need to get tested?”
Him: “Nah just having lonely nights wanna come over?”
Me: “Eh, no. Was that Venmo request for the morning after pill?”
Him: “Nah was just messing around so bored. Wanna come over?"
At this point in time, I knew there was only one thing that could save me.
My imaginary boyfriend.
As soon as I make up a pretend boyfriend, BOOM. The kid leaves me alone. I wish I knew it was that easy to get rid of him. I would have done it a lot sooner that's for sure.
Basically, the moral of my worst sexual experience is don’t do something just for a story. But if you do, have a laugh about it and use your pretend boyfriend to save the day. They've always got your back.