Monday, July 25, 2011
I cannot reiterate my annoyance with men enough. Especially when it comes to their utter stupidity.
I've been on several dates with Mr. Beach Bum since Memorial Day weekend. He's tall, charming, super cute, and his last name would sound great with my first name (all the things I'm looking for in a potential mate). Anywho...for the past several dates, things seem to be getting hot and heavy. We haven't done it yet...but we're going to. Next time.
So next time comes around. We're on the beach, full moon, all the typical love making cliches are set in place. We're totally in the moment. Just like the movies and those trashy romance novels. I'm the main character that everyone wants to be.
The only problem with these novels and movies is that there's never any mention of a condom. EVER. Sure, people get knocked up in the movies but they usually don't go into too much detail with STDs and such. It's like they don't exist. I guess it doesn't make for good storytelling. Imagine you're reading this great love story of the century and the main characters have just realized how in love they are and they're about to consummate the relationship and the author is describing in such great detail the look in his eyes and the way she smells and the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open. Mood killer.
Anywho...that's exactly how it was going with me and Beach Bum on the beach. Everything was flowing together until I knew I could live out my romance novel fantasy no longer. I had to kill the mood by telling him to whip out the condom.
At this point you would assume that any sensible 20 something man would reach into his pocket and pull out a condom. You know...since 20 something men should be prepared for these instances. Especially when it was an almost understood and agreed on fact that this was happening here, tonight, with this hot girl you've been discussing doing this with for the past several weeks.
Not so much...
Instead he comes up with...."Oh, so I have to pull out?"
What do you have to do? You have to do what everyone's been telling you to do since high school! You need to put on a damn condom, Lame Brain! Really? How did you make it into your mid 20's and have no idea what you need to do in order to have sex with a girl?! You're so hot! I wanted you! Imbecile!
The main issue that worries me about this is the fact that I'm now left wondering how many girls allowed Beach Bum to take them to the beach and have his way with them on the beach. More importantly, how many other beach bums had they done it with. And why isn't he concerned about the same thing? I'm cute! Isn't he wondering about how many beach bums I've been on the beach with? He doesn't know me! He doesn't even know that I'm writing this blog about how much of a fool he is!
There's an app on Stalkbook called Sexperation. It takes into account when you had sex for the first time, how many partners you've had, how old they were when you slept with them and tells you how many people you've shared sexual partners with. Just like the game about Kevin Bacon. I filled it out with the intention of telling you what number they gave me...but it was too frightening.
Moral of the story? Wear a condom. Tell your sons to wear condoms so they don't look like fools in front of sexy girls they're trying to get with...or they'll be sitting on the beach alone under the full moon with an awkward boner.