The One Who Said I Was Bad in Bed
My freshman year of college was an absolute blast. I moved down to northern California to attend Santa Clara University. The campus was beautiful with palm trees everywhere, Spanish architecture, tropical flowers, and hundreds upon hundreds of gorgeous, tan, California boys. I was in heaven. I dated a few guys at the beginning of the year. I call it dating, others may classify it as drunken hook-ups, but that's really not the point. The point is, I had stayed celibate my entire senior year of high school and I was getting impatient. I wanted a boyfriend so I could have sex again and wasn't about to have a random one night stand that I knew I couldn't emotionally deal with.
A few weeks after returning from Winter break, one of the girls on my floor asked if I wanted to go to the beach with her and her friends. I thought it was kind of strange because Sarah and I had never hung out before but I agreed to go. Who was I to pass up a free trip to the beach? So that weekend, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt because it was still February, Sarah and I waited outside our dorm and were eventually picked up by her two friends.
Andy, I recognized. We had met at orientation and had become friends because we were both from Oregon. Jake, I had seen around but had never spoken to. We had mutual friends but had never spent any time together. The entire day was slightly awkward. It turns out Sarah wasn't that close to either of these boys and I'm still not quite sure how the entire arrangement was ever made. Nevertheless, we traveled the 25 miles to the beach and spent the day wondering around the pier and talking about the parties we would go to that weekend. Being drunk just sounded like a better option for all of us at that point.
Sometime during our day, Sarah and I decided it would be a good idea for the two of us to make jell-o shots when we returned to the dorms. And this is exactly what we did. Now, I don't know how many of you have ever made jell-o shots before, but it's not an easy or particularly clean process - even when you have access to a full kitchen. We had to improvise seeing as we still lived in the dorms. Water was boiled in an electric tea kettle. The jell-o was dissolved in plastic cereal bowls. The shots were stored in ice trays in our mini-fridges. It was pretty MacGyver of us, if you ask me.
Andy and Jake returned that evening and the four of us got things started by downing at least thirty jell-o shots. Somewhere during that evening, Jake confessed that he had wanted Sarah to ask me to the beach because he liked me. I was flattered and we ended up making out in his room for the majority of the night. Jake wasn't like the other guys I had dated. He was short, really short, with a small nose and way too much muscle. I think he was trying to make up for his unfortunate height. But he also proved to be incredibly sweet. He would send me flowers even though he only lived three floors above me. He would introduce me to his friends as 'his beautiful girlfriend'. I was pretty much head over heels for the guy.
About a month into our relationship, we decided that it was time we started sleeping together. Jake was a virgin. I, as we now all know, was not. But that didn't bother him and he, for some reason, expected me to be some sort of expert at the whole thing. Sorry, Jake. I had only had sex four times before you came along. But whatever.
So we waited until my roommate had left town and he took me out to a really nice dinner, bought me flowers, told me how beautiful I was, and then quickly marched us back to my dorm room. Within in a matter of minutes, both of us were naked and lying on the bed, Jake had his condom in place, and was asking me if I was ready.
"I'm ready," I announced. "Are you?"
"I think so," he said.
"Okay." I smiled at him because I could tell he was nervous. Then, for whatever reason, I felt the need to give him some advice. "Don't worry if it doesn't last that long. It's your first time and we can have more fun during the second round." Did that sound rude?
"I'm not 16," he told me. "I think I'll be able to last long enough."
"Okay," I said with another smile. "Go for it, then."
And he did. Thirty seconds later, and he was done.
"Shit," was all he said.
"It's okay, really. We can do it again."
"Shit. I can't believe that just happened. I'm really sorry."
"It's really okay," I promised him. "It's kind of flattering, in a way."
Well, fuck. I didn't know why. I was just trying to make him feel better. "It means I did a good job?" It sounded more like a question.
I frowned at that. Jake was clearly distraught and refusing to look at me. That was just inconsiderate. But after a few more minutes of ego massage, Jake was ready to try again and this time he lasted a whopping seven minutes. It was a miracle.
After a few weeks of being sexually active, Jake suddenly developed a conscience.
"Why haven't you had an orgasm yet?" He asked me one night.
Now there's a question for you. I honestly had no idea what an orgasm was supposed to feel like. Maybe I had experienced one and I just didn't know it. No. I felt like I would have known. I wanted to give Jake an honest answer. Bad idea.
"I've never had an orgasm before," I confessed. "I'm not sure how to go about having one."
Jake looked at me like I was crazy. "Never?"
"I don't know. I've only been with one other guy before you (complete lie) and we didn't get to practice that much before we broke up." That bastard.
"But you've had other boyfriends, haven't you?"
"Of course I have." One, maybe two.
"And what?" His questions were getting on my last nerve.
"And why didn't any of them give you one? Why haven't you given yourself an orgasm?"
"To answer your first question, I don't know. We never really got to that point. To answer your second question, I don't do that."
"All girls do that."
"No we don't." Who did this guy think he was? He had just lost his virginity fifteen days ago and now he had become the expert.
"Well maybe you should start then. It might help me."
"Help you do what?"
Jake looked at me and smiled. "If you knew what you wanted, then you could tell me so I could help you enjoy this as much as I do."
Well, that was kind of sweet. But not convincing enough. "I'm sure we can figure it out together."
Jake smiled again. "That means lots of practice."
I laughed. "Okay. I'm cool with that."
Apparently Jake was practicing for a marathon. He would drag me up to his room every chance we had and we would experiment with ways to get me off, none of which involved different positions or anything other than just regular sex (penis in vagina). It was mostly him coming at me from different angles while I lay on my back. It was tiring and after about a month, it was boring. But Jake had become a man possessed. He was determined that I would orgasm with him and only him and started becoming very frustrated.
My inability to orgasm became that huge pink elephant in our relationship, the one that was so obviously there but neither one of us would mention. Our friends just thought we had an unbelievable sex life considering our doors were always locked and the bed could nearly always be heard squeaking from down the hall. We both knew different. Eventually that elephant took a huge shit in the middle of my dorm room and I knew Jake and I would be breaking up very shortly after that.
My friend Ali had come to stay with me. She was still in high school so I wanted to show her a really good time. I took her to a party, got her drunk, and found a cute guy for her. That's when Jake decided it was time to go back to my dorm room. Ali promised me she was in good hands and so I made the hike back home with Jake tugging me along eagerly. But I was wasted and in no mood to mess around. My best friend was in town and this was going to be over quickly - none of this stupid orgasm business.
"We're going to try something new," I announced as soon as Jake and I had climbed into my top bunk. (P.S. sex on the top bunk, never a good idea.)
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we are going to try another position."
Jake gave me a blank stare. "What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know. You're the guy. You think of something."
The blank stare didn't leave his face. "I don't know how to do anything else."
"Well neither do I but what we've been doing clearly isn't working anymore." I'm so pleasant to be around when I'm drunk.
"Why don't you get on top, then. I'm tired of doing all the work."
Ouch. But probably very true as my enthusiasm had waned sometime the week before. So we started going at it and my plan was a success. Five minutes into it and Jake was spent. I promptly called Ali and told her it would be okay for her to come back to the room. Jake announced he would be spending the night and the three of us passed out. Sometime in the middle of the night, Jake woke up and tried to get me to sleep with him again. I refused and he took it personal. Way too personal. He climbed out of my bunk bed, slammed the door and didn't speak to me until the next afternoon.
We tried to work things out but it was very obvious that we were forcing something that shouldn't be happening. I started looking for excuses to break up with him and he started giving up on the sex. Luckily, Spring break came around.
"So, Lydia, I was thinking, how would you feel about taking a break while we're gone next week?"
"Like, taking a break from our relationship?"
I could see right through this one. "So you can go to Cancun and hook up with other girls but then still have someone to back to? I don't think so."
He didn't try to deny it. "I just don't think we're having fun anymore."
"It's finals week. No one is having fun."
"A break would be good for us."
"I'm not interested in taking a break, Jake. I'm interested in breaking up."
"Did I do something?"
"No. You did nothing," I sighed. Literally, nothing. "But it's pretty obvious neither of us are into this anymore."
"Have a good Spring break." And that was the end of that.
Spring break came and went and Jake never made any contact. We would see each other on campus and it was always a little awkward because I had seen him naked and he had seen me naked. It wasn't until another guy started showing interest in me, that I heard all the rumors that had been flying around.
Fun-Boy, as we called him (because he drove a forest green Mustang convertible), was after me because I reminded him of Kirsten Dunst and he was in to TPWG, thin pasty white girls. I was a little scared. Well, Fun-Boy lived on Jake's floor and I don't know if the two ever actually talked about me or if the rumors were just that wide spread, but one day I was studying in my room when Fun-Boy walked in and sat down on my bed.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
He pulled out his can of snuff and started to dip. So gross. "You used to date Jake, didn't you?"
"For a few months last quarter, yeah."
"Did you guys have a bad break-up or something?"
"It could have gone better, I suppose. But I don't have any hard feelings..."
"Then you should probably know what he is saying about you."
First of all, let me just get this out there, if you have something to say to me, just say it. I don't like playing games. I don't like asking questions. I don't like guessing.
"I'm not sure I want to know."
But Fun-Boy told me anyway. "He's telling people you are bad in bed."
I laughed out loud. Of all the things he could say, why would he choose that one? Who would actually care? But then I froze. I cared. That was bullshit! He was the one who was bad in bed, not me!
"Are you okay?" Fun-Boy asked, spitting into a plastic bottle.
"No. You're grossing me out. If you're going to do that, get it out of my room." Honestly, at this point I was embarrassed. I, for whatever reason, hated the idea of people thinking I was bad in bed. It was actually quite insulting, but probably would have been even more so if I had actually put an effort into the sex I had with Jake. Maybe he was mistaking my lack of enthusiasm for lack of skill. But who was I kidding? I had no skill to speak of and certainly didn't gain any when I was dating him.
"Are you angry at him?" Fun-Boy asked.
"Yes. He's the one..." But I didn't want to start the blame game so I just rolled my eyes. "He's an asshole."
"He is," Fun-Boy smiled at me. "But I'm not."
"No. You're not. It's too bad I don't date guys who chew snuff."
With that Fun-Boy left and came back after he had brushed his teeth. Like that made a difference.
So I'm not normally one for confrontation. I hate it, in fact. Except when I'm intoxicated which is exactly what I became that weekend. I was planning on seeing Jake out at a party because that is where I usually ran into everybody I knew on the weekends. But that didn't happen so I did the next best thing which was to drunk-dial him.
"Jake. This is Lydia. Your ex."
"Hey," he sounded nervous. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to know why you were saying those things about me."
Pause. "What things."
"You know what things and I refuse to say them out loud."
"No. I don't."
"Yes you do. And you know what? I think you're a bad person." I really knew how to insult someone, didn't I?
"No," I interrupted him. "I'm talking. You can't say I'm bad in bed because you have nothing to compare me to. Virgin. So stop talking shit because I haven't said one bad word about you. And you never complained when we were together so you can't start complaining now. Grow up, Jake."
There was a long pause and I was worried he had hung up on me. "Are you done?" He finally asked.
"I think so."
"Goodbye, Lydia." Then he hung up on me.
I felt that I had made my point so I locked my door to keep Fun-Boy out and I went to sleep. The next morning I woke up and couldn't believe what I had done. Oh well. Too late to take it back now. Soon school was done for the year and I didn't have to see Fun-Boy or Jake for an entire three months.
Sometime during our sophomore year, Jake gave me a drunken apology one night at a party. He admitted to spreading the rumors and said that he was sorry, he didn't know what inspired him to start being so negative. I, like the nice person I am, accepted his apology and declined his offer to recant his statement to every person he told. It just seemed a little past the point of mattering.
Jake graduated early from Santa Clara and moved to New York or DC or somewhere out east. We are Facebook friends (whatever that means these days) but haven't spoken to each other in probably six or seven years. I wish I could say that I learned a lesson from my relationship with Jake but I honestly can't think of what it would be. Don't date short guys with small noses. That's about all I got. Sorry.