In my experience, no matter how far away condoms might be from your bed, or how much your partner might resist, they will appear with the right amount of insistence. I’ve witnessed many a human’s compliance to the condom rule, even when it meant traveling miles inclement weather naked.
Paranoia isn’t good for anybody, except when it comes to your sex life
I feel like I’m a testament to this fact; in the many years I’ve been having sex with numerous different partners, I’ve managed to stay STI free. I attribute this entirely to the fear-of-God that was instilled in me as a child in the 90’s.
Fear-driven sex ed
Yeah. Growing up during the AIDS epidemic meant the incantation of “safe sex” continuously echoing in your head as it was the key to (literally) staying alive. Once I came into my adulthood and starting having sex, I never went without a love glove. How could I ignore the condom monocle donned by Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes? Hello– that stood for something.
And there was no way the story of Magic Johnson’s carelessness could lead to other Johnsons infecting me — venereally. So, it’s been my deep-rooted paranoia coupled with my negative interest in ever getting pregnant, that has brought condoms onto every sexual scene I’ve ever encountered. Even when I’m on the pill. Even when it’s a monogamous relationship. I have even stuck to my latex guns in situations where there was a hottie with language barrier forcing me into one of the most bizarre game of charades I’ll probably ever have to play.
In my experience, no matter how far away condoms might be from your bed, or how much your partner might resist, they will appear with the right amount of insistence. I’ve witnessed many a human’s compliance to the condom rule, even when it meant traveling miles in inclement weather.
It was a late summer evening…
in New England and the sun was dipping behind the western treeline. Hoodies were pulled sloppily over the drunken heads of my friends to combat the chilling air. It was a last hurrah– one final party for everyone to say goodbye before they had to go back to their respective colleges. Beers were cracked, the bonfire lit.
Normally I’d be just as absorbed in the raucous laughter and over-the-top stories but that particular night I was distracted– by an overwhelming sense of lust. My loins felt as smoldery as the burning embers of the campfire. Kind of distracting. But piping hot-crotches are what happens when you’ve been silently nursing a crush on a friend for weeks.
I had known Michael for ages, but this summer felt different. He seemed grown up. Tan and muscled from gardening. Very nice indeed. I had been drooling over this new version of my friend all through July and August, convinced some days that he felt the same way. Others that he didn’t see me as anything but his kid sister.
As it turned out, I wasn’t crazy. All the tension I had been feeling, all the “vibes” I thought I was drowning in, were confirmed in a single moment. Sitting kitty-corner to me around the bonfire, Michael put his hand on my knee. Our eyes met and he smiled mischievously. It was on.
When the party moved inside, Michael grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom at the far end of the house. We wordlessly shared drunk, slobbery kisses in the manic way two people do when they’ve been waiting too long to jump each other’s bones.
Things escalated quickly and it wasn’t long before we were in a naked tangle on his bed. He attempted to take it one step further before I stopped him.
“Dude,” I stuttered. “What about a… you know?”
“Are you sure?” He asked, obviously disappointed. The mood felt a bit broken.
“Yeah, I’m sure!” I said incredulously.
“I’ve got some in the car, but that means going through the living room…”
“And then everybody’s going to know,” I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want our roll in the hay to be the fodder for all of our friends either. “Ok, well maybe we should just do it another time.”
“No, no, no.” Michael’s mind seemed to be working frantically now. Condom = penis in vagina. “I’ll be right back.”
With the agility of a cat, he quickly leapt up onto windowsill, popped out the screen and dashed out into the night. As I watched his bare ass glisten in the moonlight, I couldn’t help but smile.
Nothing makes you feel quite as desired as someone who’s willing to run naked through the woods to get a condom.
Condom monologues are independent personal stories. The opinions shared are the writer’s own.