Early Exit (February 13th, 2014)
Well, holy fuck. My life has regressed to high school. Tonight I had my third tinder hook up. I’d have to rate the entire trilogy as “a step below masturbation.”
It was our second date. He came straight from work. We did happy hour near my place. He asked me what I spent my time doing these days. I coyly dished about my sex blog. We shared randy stories. He seemed to take everything in stride. I invited him over.
On our first date—which occurred at 3am after he went out, went home, and sobered up—he told me he was essentially looking for a pot-smoking buddy. We went out for drinks so I could screen him and make sure he wasn’t a creep, and he gave off a good vibe. Was sensitive about that fact that girls have to screen guys. I invited him to my place after establishing that we weren’t getting naked together. He obliged and was totally civilized the entire time. He did lean in, but when I pushed him away he said “yeah, I wasn’t feeling it either.” Which is such a defensive, dumb thing to say, but whatever, at least he didn’t lash out at the rejection that was pre-established or tell me that I was leading him on.
The way I felt about him was that he was a good enough guy and it was pleasant enough talking to him, but I wasn’t intellectually stimulated. He had played a minor and forgettable role in my childhood. The familiarity was comforting. We had gone to some of the same programs and knew some of the same people, yet somehow escaped each other’s memories. He thought it was charming, not trashy, that I had gotten fingered (and tried to lose my virginity) in the bathroom at The Abbey Pub. Like, he asked whether it was the men’s or women’s room, and when I said it must have been the women’s, he replied “bold.”
We got to my place and didn’t waste any time. Immediately, I felt like we had way hotter chemistry than Arun and I. I actually enjoyed making out with him; kissing wasn’t merely a pesky step that had to be completed before we could go any further in a standard sequence. Soon enough, some clothing came off and I was ready-to-go. Asked if he wanted to transition from my couch to my bedroom; after all, I don’t keep condoms under my couch cushions. Once we were in my room, he mumbled that he wanted to smoke pot; it would increase his “stamina” and we’d both benefit. Earlier I had told him that I couldn’t smoke for a while because I just interviewed for a job at a hospital where they test (fucking stupidest policy ever: testing for illegal drugs that are way less dangerous than comparable prescription drugs and that wouldn’t affect job performance unless done on the job.) So, sure, I told him to be my guest and watched him prepare to fuck me—allegedly. It was a fairly substantial interruption in the progression. Like way more major than switching to a room with condoms and adequate space. But, whatevs, we started making out again and it was okay. More clothes came off. We rubbed. I was ecstatic that he would let our genitals touch. He mumbled something about how he was gonna come soon. I DROPPED HIS PENIS LIKE IT WAS A HOT PLATE SCALDING MY HAND. Too late. Thirty seconds later a little squirted out. He announced, “Aw, man, I busted.”
I was shocked. SHOCKED! Because I hadn’t even managed to get his penis in my mouth before he came. And I wasn’t giving him a handjob, either; I’m not 16, for christ’s sake! We were merely RUBBING. And he wasn’t even THAT hard. Like I thought he was hard enough so I could have wrapped a condom around it, but flaccid enough so I would have had to stuff it in me (which I wasn’t ready to do since he had barely touched me). He went from semi-hard to unloaded! With no stimulation while he was orgasming! Is that even POSSIBLE?! It was an American Pie moment and there was no planning for it, at least on my end. He is like one of those people who knocks on the door while entering; it was too late. He told me how good it felt. Really? You orgasmed while trying to stop it and while no one was making contact with your penis. For shhhame. He apologized for his “early exit.”
Look, he was totally helpful with me. He did everything I asked for and didn’t have long nails! He used his mouth on me, though I didn’t use mine on him. I mean, I planned to use mine!!! You all know how I feel about being eaten out, though. And he just wasn’t that good. Plus, he told me he was good to go again and started jerking off while eating me out. Normally, I like the visuals of a guy preparing himself; it adds anticipation. Sadly, he couldn’t coordinate jerking off and focusing on me. We 69ed for a while and I thought, mmm, at least he is getting a little hard again. But then I was like, wait, fuck, NOOOO, what if he comes again before I’m even ready to fuck him, and anyway, he isn’t really hard enough to fuck. So it concluded with me getting myself off. And I was thoroughly bored by that time. Again, it was more of a “designating the end” gesture.
A few minutes later, he asked if I wanted to “go again.” WHAA?? When was the round one?! Did I miss it? Politely, I declined, “No, I’m done.” He apologized once more for his early exit. Explained that he hadn’t “cleared out the tubes” before we hung out. Which makes sense considering he came straight from work. Not that very much came out of him, so I feel like it couldn’t have been that long since the last time he jerked off. Sigh. Obviously he has problems regularly or he wouldn’t have introduced the alleged stamina-increasing measure.
Most ridiculous part: he told me I could blog about him. WHAT’S TO WRITE ABOUT? He lasted 30 seconds! I suppose I’ve written more than 30-seconds’ worth of material. Well, he has texted me since. And I guess I’ll take him up on his offer to hang out again.
In the future, I will give him sex toys to fuck me with and will make sure he touches me before I touch him. The word “touch” has taken on a new meaning, though. Like I wasn’t “working on him,” specifically, before he came. And there was NO PHYSICAL WARNING! How am I supposed to gauge?
SURPRISE SEMEN ATTACK! Premature evacuation.
Next time, I will also remind him to jerk off beforehand. As I put it, he should have “pregamed” for our encounter. If he extends an invitation to happy hour, I will counter, “Hmm, you should prolly take care of yourself at home first. Or jerk off at the office (since it only takes 30 seconds, that shouldn’t be a problem). No Judgment!” Of course, decreased semen supply would be the sad, sad unintended CONSEQUENCE of his selfless preparation. Like the truism goes, “Women still can’t have it all!”
But, guys, this story has a happy ending: Apparently you CAN teach an old dog new tricks! I’ve totally learned from my sexual mistakes. After my experience with Arun, I was so disappointed with myself for not getting off earlier in the day. That’s a prospective orgasm that was tossed away with unmet expectations. RIP, prospective orgasm. Getting ready to go out with premature ejaculator, I showered and was like, “Fuck, I’m so horny right now, and FUCK ORGASM BUDGETING!” And I’m so proud of myself for my defiance. Because if an experience is gonna be mediocre, you might as well get off beforehand. And if it’s good, it isn’t like “clearing out the pipes” will seriously detract. I’ve never been like, “If only I hadn’t fucked my hand silly an hour ago, this real, live human being with a penis would be exciting.” Often, though, I’ve elegized orgasms lost.