Pic  @ Darren Cullen

Having sex is weird and dangerous. And fun, on occasion, but lately I can’t seem to remember why. These past few months have been plagued with one dating disaster after the next. I’ve been victim to everything from shameless rejection to sloppy kisses to erectile dysfunction. Naturally, I refuse to believe that any of this has anything to do with me. I mean, what’s wrong with you London?! Can’t you produce just one hot, smart, large-dicked, slightly fucked-up (but in a good way) guy? It can’t be that hard.

This recent sexual holocaust prompted me to reminisce about my sexual disasters of the past. There have been many. Below is a list of some of my most nightmarish erotic encounters, save for a few that make me look exceptionally bad.  The wonders of self-portraiture…

Blood #1:
When I was nineteen I went home with a guy I met on a night bus (if that’s not the most romantic start to a story you’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is). After being drunkenly led off the bus by my arm, the guy took me back to his apartment where we started fucking on his couch (and by “fucking” I mean I was lying there with my eyes half open as he had sex on top of me). After a few minutes he pulled out, letting out a horrifying scream. I looked down to find I was covered in blood. I immediately assumed I had gotten my period, but after a closer look I realized it was him that was bleeding, not me. His foreskin had ripped during sex, causing him to ejaculate a stream of blood both inside and on top of me. I spent the next half hour gagging naked over his aquatic themed toilet.

Once, at a family party, my cousin Aaron and I got super bored, so we stole a few of our parent’s beers and snuck off into the woods. As we were thirteen and had never drank alcohol before, we both got super wasted and ended up hardcore making-out. Our parents found us hours later, covered in each other’s puke.

A random guy slapped me in the face with a handful of his cum on a night bus once. Apparently this technique is commonly referred to by street hooligans as “Spider-Maning.” I don’t know if this counts as a “sexual experience,” but it definitely stayed with me.

Blood #2:
When I first started taking ecstasy it made me really horny. Like horrible, desperate, sex-lunatic horny to the point where any vague sexual standards I had were completely eradicated, and I viewed all humans as nothing more than walking genitals. A few years ago, while at a nightclub in Bournemouth (why?), I entered one of these sex-zombie states, and decided to to hook-up an obese chick in a bathroom stall. After making-out for a bit, she suddenly informed me that she was “riding the wave” and needed to “take out her Moon Cup.”  I didn’t know what any of that meant, so I just nodded in consent, at which point she pulled down her tights, reached deep inside her hairless vagina, and pulled out a small plastic vessel filled with blood. The slippery cup then erupted from her hands, splattering her period blood all over my face, hands and thighs. Unhygienic?

Recently I was having regular sex with a guy with cerebral palsy. Once, just before he was about to come, his body went into spasm and he head-butted me directly in the nose, leaving me with two black eyes. In hindsight this is actually pretty funny, but at the time adjectives such as ‘awkward,’ ‘scarring’ and ‘fucking painful’ seemed more appropriate.

As horrible / embarrassing as these encounters may seem, in a weird way, I’m glad they happened. I mean, at least the sex was memorable, you know? The worst sex is the kind that’s so pedestrian that afterward your brain just sort of washes it away. As far as sexual experiences go, I’m far more interested in the extreme than I am the banal. Fuck me up and I’ll never forget you… I guess.

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