sexed up
Learning How To Say 'No' College isn’t all about books – there are some fun and games involved too. But there are other life lessons that we have to learn as well. Best for all concerned if it isn’t the hard way...
Anne Sexton, 04 Sep 2009
There’s only one sexual experience I regret.
It happened in my final year in college. I was drunk. I was upset.
I was hardly capable of making a cup of tea, let alone a wise decision.
The drunkenness was partly Tony’s fault. Okay, I know that’s passing the buck, but he kept plying me with alcohol and I went along with it. Beer, wine, shots of tequila – whatever he gave me I gulped it down with relish, trying to blot out my feelings.
My emotional state had nothing to do with Tony. It was Zach, his best friend, and my ex-boyfriend, who’d thrown me into a spin. And so there I was, sitting on Tony’s couch at three in the morning, downing booze like an alcoholic who’d well and truly fallen off the wagon.
I’d run into Zach earlier that evening. He hadn’t taken our break-up well. Upon seeing me flirting with somebody else Zach proceeded to throw the mother of all tantrums. Outside the pub he screamed at me; he ran into the road and nearly got knocked over; he howled, he cried, he kicked in his car door while I looked helplessly on – embarrassed and unsure how to calm him down.
Tony, having heard the commotion, came outside to assist. He talked to Zach then grabbed my hand. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll take you away from here,” and I gratefully followed him – all the way to his apartment.
Not for a second did I suspect an ulterior motive. After all, Tony had rescued me and he was Zach’s friend. And if that wasn’t enough to make him trustworthy, he lived with his girlfriend.
A few hours and several drinks later Tony told me his girlfriend wasn’t coming home. He leaned over the couch and kissed me. “Let’s take this into the bedroom,” he suggested.
This week I was planning to write about a light-hearted piece about bad sex. Most of us have war stories where the sex is so disappointing that you really wished you hadn’t bothered. But a funny thing happened – almost everyone I asked told me the same kind of anecdote: the worst sex they’d had wasn’t with a useless, selfish or inconsiderate lover; instead it was an experience to which they had consented even though they’d much rather have said no.
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