The Most Awkward Hook-Up Ever

I thought I'd continue in the 'ex-boyfriend' drama collection for this post. Although this story isn't about an ex-boyfriend. He's more of an ex-hook-up-partner, if that makes sense.

A few summers ago, I forget how many, I ran into this guy who I developed a liking for and we established something. I wouldn't call it a relationship because it wasn't and I wouldn't call it anything else either because it was really nebulous and somewhat unidentifiable. It was tenuous at best and downright uncomfortable at it's worst. We had this great chemistry we were just uncompatible sexually. Completely uncompatible. We just couldn't jive to the same beat.

Over the course of that summer we'd randomly get together and try to get the deed done, it just would never work out for one reason or another. We'd both end up a bit miffed and really confused at the end of an evening together and finally out of sheer frustration we kind of gave one another the proverbial finger and moved on. Fast forward to the following summer.

We both happened to frequent the same bar so we'd see each other randomly and after some time we began to be nice to each other again and it's really just a slippery slope from there. Nice leads to flirting and flirting leads to sexual mores which lead to inuendo and then an outright declaration of 'Let's do dirty things to one another.'

Off we trot to do said dirty things to each other. We're excited. Apparently we'd forgotten our past troubles or if we hadn't forgotten maybe our time apart had strengthened our resolve to get it done. My mind works like that. I will make sure the deed gets done out of sheer willpower. (Any deed, not just boning semi-friends from the bar.) If you want to guarantee I do something just let me fail at it a few times. At this point I was ready to take a literal leap of faith to get it done. If you catch my drift.

In the front door we walk. I open a piece of mail, toss it on the dining room table and we proceed to my bedroom. We didn't bother cutting on the lights, we just get started. We're making out and getting hot and heavy and peeling off clothes and things are moving smoothly. I remove the last stitch of clothes I have on.

I am completely naked when my friend says 'Oh God.' Followed quickly by 'I have to wash my hands.' He runs to the bathroom. I sit up in my bed lounging on my elbows and I say 'Okay,' quizzically. While in the bathroom he then says 'Oh shit! It's 1 AM! I have to go.' I say 'Okay,' quizzically. He runs out of the bathroom, out of my bedroom and down the hall and out the front door. I say 'Okay,' quizzically.

I roll over to get up to go lock the door and what do I roll over into? A wet spot. Yes. Dude jizzed on my bed and ran away. Did you get that? Dude jizzed on my bed and ran the fuck away.

By this point my paradigm has shifted. I honestly felt it move. I was so freaking clueless as to what just happened I couldn't even process. So I just texted him and apologized for it being so late to which he responded by telling me good night. You really have to respect a person for that. Being able to be polite when you've prematurely ejaculated cannot be easy. Rather than be pissed about the whole situation I just took it as a compliment. It's not every day you cause an eruption just by getting naked.

What it did do was gave me even more drive to get the deed done, which we still haven't accomplished, but I'm willing to accept that this may be one of those situations beyond my control. I personally cannot help that I'm a freaking hot bitch and I shouldn't hold it against other people. But it did kind of disappoint me for at least 6 months afterwards when other men didn't immediately lose it when they saw me naked. That was kind of a buzz kill.