From all the phrases that can be yelled out in the night whilst engaging in intercourse, “I’M SORRY!” is definitely the worst.

A gentleman and myself are having sex in the missionary position and I decide to raise my leg up and over onto his shoulder. Miscalculating the speed and distance this act will take, I end up smacking him upside the face with my shin.

Like, really hard.

I cannot get the look on his face out of my mind: Think of a mixture of pain, confusion, and a little bit of disappointment. I know everyone has different expectations when having sex, especially the first few times you’re getting to know what they’re into, how they move, and how exactly you’re going make it work between the two of you—but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting to have to wear a helmet just to fuck me.


Picture 23

Insert”safe sex” joke here.


I would really love to say that I’m a delicate, sexy, graceful lady—but we know that’s not true—who can execute a sexual interaction with perfect timing, grace, and full control over my body. But the unfortunate truth is that since puberty, I’ve been awkward as fuck.

Possessing long limbs that tend to have a somewhat limited communication with the mind that supposedly controls them has produced some causalities. Ask the banister in my apartment I constantly crash into with my hipbone. Ask the corners of the tables I knuckle into like some kind of Neanderthal. Ask the long stemmed wine glasses I no longer own because I’ve swiped them clear across the room. I’ve never met a coffee table I haven’t tripped over.

This is pretty much how I get around.

But before this moment I wasn’t hurting anyone, except myself. Now that’s all changed. I’ve almost concussed some poor dude. What am I capable of now that I’ve moved from inanimate objects to live human beings?

I’ve become a monster.

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