Boyfriend no.3 and I finally went to bed together.
We had a really lovely evening of food and cocktails, and we planned afterwards to watch a movie at mine. We made it through the whole thing. Then I said he could stay over. Then we went to bed. I was adamant that it wasn’t going to happen. He agreed it wouldn’t.
And then it did. Because apparently I need validation and because he is actually a typical man who can’t ‘lie next a beautiful woman and just cuddle’! And so began an hour (maybe less) of what I can only describe as rabbit sex.
It was exactly what I expected. No compatibility, I gave him some cues which he found difficult to follow or maintain (or just didn’t give a shit).
I was pinned into some very unusual positions which did nothing for me. Eventually I climbed on top and rode myself to climax. He didn’t cum. I cleaned myself up, went to sleep and the next morning I felt like shit because I really didn’t want it happen, he knew I didn’t want it to happen but somehow I ended up instigating the most mundane sex of my life.
But worse than that, I woke up feeling like I had cheated on boyfriend no.1. I felt guilty over a guy who can’t string along two text messages.
Honest to god, I’m a train wreck. No wonder I’m single!