During an innocent game of Mafia with friends while on vacation, I got overly excited by a friend’s fantastic grammatical construction while intoxicated.
Oh my god, that hit the spot. Really, it was a little bit orgasmic.
Juliana, you need to GET LAID.
Everyone laughed, myself included, but I thought the words rang true. It had been six months, friends, since the sun had shone around those hidden parts and it wasn’t ‘easier to deal with’ as time passed. I had been shamelessly dabbling with pornography and fantasizing about frolicking naked with a man. I should have sought help right away, but I did the opposite instead.
I met a man on Friday night. He was funny and laid back and had nice friends. We exchanged numbers and he came to find me on Saturday, the second day of the show, and we spent most of the night dancing together. The devil sure is cunning – he offered me an awkward-dancing rock n’ roller at an electronic music festival who was tall, thin (yet very athletic), three years younger than me and from New Zealand. I can hardly hide my giddiness around an accent, so I should’ve recognized the blatant temptation and run far far away from this wolf in manly lamb’s clothing. But I didn’t do that. I was stupid, very very stupid. I let him kiss me. We spent a few hours together, talking, dancing, sucking face, and amazing one another with shared personality traits and tastes. He suggested we go back to his apartment, which was so conveniently located five minutes away and I tried my hardest to resist.
That sounds good, but let’s listen to another 20mins of the Deadmau5 set before we go.
He agreed. Not only did he agree, but he fetched me some water and we sat down together, listening to the music as he put his arm around me.
At his apartment we listened to Faith No More (why is it so hard to find FNM fans in the States?), had a drink and then… we had sex. Full, long-lasting, mutually pleasing penetration and a little sprinkle of this and that. Twice.
The following morning I returned to my friends and tried to keep mum, but they are perceptive and saw right through my wide smile.
Ha ha you had seeeeeeeeeeeeeex!!! How was it, tell me, tell me!
After a shower and over a cigarette, I spared them no details of my shameful encounter.
I sit here, days later, still thinking about that episode. All these years of my adult life have been lived in shame and perversion; when I’m not engaging in obscene behavior, I’m thinking about it, or talking about it, or joking about it. My mother was married with a child when she was my age and lived a righteous life. I’m not sure when I got off a respectable path (if I had to guess, I’d say age 11), but my pleasure-seeking ways are no way to live. Last week was indulgent and culminated in the highest offense against all that is divine: amazing foreplay and sex with a man I’ll never see again. It’s despicable, and I’m so remorseful.
I ask the heavens for forgiveness, I thank my friends for being supportive, and as summer approaches, I promise to make the right choice when such perfectly aligned circumstances present themselves again.