Sex Card

I noticed a call for reader submissions on the subject of People I Never Intended to Sleep With on Nerve.com, a pop culture/sex/relationship site that i like to check out. They do this a fair bit, but i never really thought to submit anything up until recently, when ‘sex card’ story suddenly came to mind. I figured i’d pull something together and send it in, for shits. They ended up using it as one of 5 pieces, which is pretty cool. I’m sure it’ll get shredded to bits in the comments section, as most everything online does, but fuck it, it’s up! Here’s the edit that appears online, and below is my original submission, minus the Billy Joel quote, which is fantastic and very piece-appropriate. Cool to see how they edited it, however slightly.

“There’s nothing better than good sex. But bad sex? A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is better than bad sex.” – Billy Joel

She was always just kinda ‘there’; a friend of friends, hanging around with the crew. Nice enough, but meek and not initially captivating; adequately cute in a tomboy pixie, always the bridesmaid never the bride kind of way. She had a thing for me that was surely not reciprocated, or so I thought. We partook in the usual slate of post-college pre-job activities, including pot luck dinners, cheap red wine, marijuana cigarettes and mining a Bob Marley box set for the choice nugs. This usually involved our full group, but over several months slowly devolved into a group of two.

I started to really enjoy her company, but it never escalated to anything more intimate than a shared joint. The chill environment allowed her to be a little more open, and we had some engaging conversations about past relationships, future plans and the dismal state of pop music (Savage Garden and NSYNC were charting at the time).  Perhaps i should have seen it coming, but honestly thought we were on the same platonic page.

I arrived at her apartment one evening and was promptly handed a card. It wasn’t a typical card-giving occasion, but i was mischievously instructed to open it. The front of the card contained cartoons with cute captions referring to new best buds, and the inside was completely blank save for one handwritten line; “I want to fuck you. Now.” I had just been propositioned via a sex card.

As i stared into the card for a moment, images of red flags waving frantically over silver platters collided in my head, only to be vanquished by two little hands pulling me in for her much-anticipated first kiss. We stood in the doorway making out like the plane was going down, until i was escorted into her darkened bedroom nearby. Shedding clothes, inhibitions and a slight hint of dignity i threw her onto the bed and proceeded to kiss and lick my way down in between her legs, where i set up camp and went to town. This process is usually a smash hit; number one with a bullet.

On this particular occasion i wasn’t receiving any of the usual signals; no moaning, no oh gods, no arched back. Absolutely zilch. If we were drinking i would have assumed she had passed out. Thinking perhaps oral wasn’t her thing i moved up and assumed fucking her in standard missionary – comfortable, safe. I may as well have been fucking a bag of rice. Zero response; no sounds, no words, no movement. I quickly finished up and to my astonishment she whispered ‘that was incredible’ into my ear. I was totally baffled. How had a friends to friends with benefits situation quickly gone so horribly awry in the form of the worst sex possible? I was under the impression that presenting a proposition in such a manner would have included bringing something, anything, to the table, even if it was just the cracker packets that rest beside the soup.

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