What’s-his-face and I had been dating and were on our best behavior until we decided the time was right. It turns out that time was Valentine’s Day. Blood was pumping, hormones were raging — I was good and ready to go. He, on the other 
hand, different story. I needn’t tell you “this doesn’t usually happen” is a phrase you never want to hear in the throws of passion. And yet, I did. It seems his other head wasn’t fully cooperating with the one that housed his brain. Not a problem, I figured. We’ll be sweaty and out of breath in no time.
Wrong. I waited for what felt like an eternity while he attempted to stroke some life into his schlong. No talking, no petting, no kissing, mind you; he was far too deep in concentration. I think I heard crickets chirping. But I thought, this is our first time, he’s a little nervous. Hell, I’m a little nervous. Let’s see what happens.
What followed next turned up the volume on the awkwardness scale. “Thank you for your patience,” he blurted out, sounding every bit like the automated recording you hear on the phone when placed on hold for customer service. I was surprised it wasn’t followed by, “Your vagina is important to us.”
When he was finally ready to do the deed, it was over in … two and a half, maybe three minutes. Not that I was watching the clock, but it certainly wasn’t enough time for the both of us to get our fill. I chalked up this Guinness-book worthy record to the excitement and newness of it all. Now, I don’t believe in first and only chances so we did find ourselves naked again, but to no avail. He seemed to have forgotten the fact that he was having sex with someone other than himself.
Granted, we all have our “off” days, but sex, mind-altering, tear-inducing, let’s-make-a-baby-now sex, is a thing we all crave. Let’s face it, no woman allows a man inside of her expecting to be a victim of bad dickage, and yet it happens to the best of us.
Thankfully, my girlfriends comforted me during my time of need with whatever-his-name-was. Oh, who am I kidding? When do we women ever forget a bad sexual experience, let alone the name of the culprit? (How else can we make fun of them?) But when a bad sex perpetrator’s got you down and you’re tired of asking yourself, “What did I do to deserve this?” The Dickage Chronicles will remind you that you are not alone.
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Dying laughing….