sex and the tampon

A funny story.

When times get hard and I question why I am with Mr on again off again, so much frustration, I think back to when we met.  We met at a night club where I was dancing and he was an intended one night stand.  Not because that was what I wanted but because it was all guys ever wanted.  Why would he be different and what difference did it make?  I was grieving over lost love and felt like something fun to take my mind off the empty house that waited for me.

We drive back to my joint and straight away I can tell he is different to other guys.  He is asking about my place, looking around, exploring, picking up a silastic gun and asking who's it is.  When I tell him it's mine he gives me an admiring grin.  I pour us vodka to drink and we drink on a mattress in the lounge room. When he does approach me he is sweet and caring.  As we kiss he senses my nervousness and says “Don’t be shy”.  He slowly undress me.  Doesn’t just get right to it.  He takes his time, touching, kissing exploring.  When he removes my knickers he stops and stares in awe.  He tells me I've the best pussy he’s ever seen.  Well, if he says so.  When I reach down to feel his groin I notice it is smooth and soft so I whip the covers back and pop down for a better inspection.  His body is hairless except for a small crop of hair around his penis.  His penis is hard yet smooth and his balls are like silk.  I am instantly as attracted to his groinage as he is to mine.

We spend the night fornicating and have a pleasurable enough time, though he doesn't bring me to climax, both falling asleep in a tipsy stupor.  When we wake in the morning we shower together and he lifts me up, pushes me against the shower wall and we do it again, tree trunk style.  I am impressed with his strength and his muscle tone.

Later on we’re dressed and sitting in my lounge room chatting.  I can’t help but notice he’s not chewing at the bit to escape.  He is happily spending time with me, not trying to do a runner.

Suddenly I burst out, “Oh shit” and go running to the bath room.  I remembered I have a tampon inside me.  My period was due any day and I put the tampon in the night before just in case I my period came while I was dancing.  Even though my period never came I forgot all about the tampon and totally forgot to take it out.  Reaching for it I find it has been pushed too far in from our fornicating and I cannot reach it.

Embarrassed I got out and tell him, “I have to go to the doctors”, thinking, if he wants to escape now is his chance to run.  He's not interested in doing a runner.  He wants to know why I need to go to the doctors and I tell him.  I’m expecting him to burst out laughing and think I am an absolute dork.  Instead he says he’ll come with me to the doctors.  We end up spending the day together.

With a beginning like that it is not hard to see why I deal with all the shit.

memories are funny things

Memories are funny things.  You can't quite recall them yet they exist.

Think of the last mind blowing sex you had?  You can maybe recall where, when, with whom.  What you were wearing or not wearing, what the temperature was like.  You know it was good.  Yet you can't really recall how it felt when you climaxed.  How awesome it was.

What about the time you broke your arm or cut the tips of your fingers off while using a carving knife.  Or labour.  You know it hurt.  You remember it hurt.  And yet you cannot recall the pain vividly.  It is now a fleeting memory that you know happened, yet cannot feel.

When I look back through photo albums I see pictures that trigger a memory.  I remember that party.  I remember how drunk I got and threw up everywhere.  I remember that really gorgeous guy I knew.  He looks good in the photo I took of him.  Yet to close my eyes and recall his voice or his smile or a conversation we had.  They memories don't come.  I know I was sad when he left.  Devastated.  Gut wrenching crushed.  I can recall how I cried and screamed for him to return, to come back to me.

Now I think of it, I know I was sad.  I still miss him.  Or the person he was back then.  Yet I cannot recall the intimate moments with him.  The last time we made love - except that I cried because I knew it was our last time together.

Parents who take photos of babies because they want to remember how tiny their newborn baby is, or how cute their 2year old, or their child's first day at school.  Looking back at the photos seeing the pictures takes you back in time for a minute although you cannot recall how tiny your newborn baby was or how they sounded when they cried in the middle of the night.  Or all the cute, funny, new things your 2year old said and did.

Memories of pain fade away so we don't spend the rest of life feeling that pain.  Labour is forgotten so a mother will want to do it again.  Sex is forgotten so we'll want to enjoy sex again and again.

Then when we pass all our memories go with us.  People will look back on a photo of great granddad standing tall and proud, with no idea what was going on at the time the photo was taken.  Was he a happy and content man or did he have unfulfilled dreams.

Memories are funny things...