Upon losing my virginity to my high school boyfriend who I “loved,” I came into college wide-eyed and curious about the world of sex. I stepped into my first day on campus single for the first time in two years, looking for anything but commitment. Which is why, when I met David (name changed), I was more than happy to be dicked down free of expectations. It was only the first month of school and I had no idea how anything worked. Although he shared many similarities with fraternity fuckboys (he once told me he, as a rule, only had sex with girls a maximum of two times and then ghosted), he insisted that fraternity men were the biggest douchers on the planet and remained a GDI.
Now, I’ve liked boys from all walks of life; short or tall, GDI or fraternity man. Which is why I didn’t care what he was doing with the rest of his life when he wasn’t having sex with me. Even though he seemed a little odd in some areas, I ignored it because dick too bomb. Usually during sex we listened to music, which is normal, except he had an extreme love for The Weeknd. Don’t get me wrong, I love him too, but it was what David listened to almost exclusively. And at first it was totally fine — The Weeknd provides a nice background to some great sex.
As we began to hang out more, he told me about some of his past relationships. The only person it seemed he had ever cared for was his high school ex, who was a great singer but had some drug issues and eventually had to leave to deal with them. He told me that he only liked girls who were “fucked in the head.” Now, I have my fair share of trust and commitment/attachment issues, but I was nowhere near the girl of his dreams. This should have been a signal to abandon ship, but again, just like hot girls can get away with anything, the sex was too good and I was hooked. I generally didn’t care about anything that came out of his mouth; I just wanted to be having sex with him as much as I could.
One night, we were in bed with music playing in the typical fashion, when he asked me to sing. We were mid-foreplay, and David wanted me to bust out into song. At first, I thought he was joking, but when he kept insisting I laughed it off and pretended like I didn’t know the lyrics. Instead of letting the singing thing go, he decided to take my place and BEGAN TO SING WHILE TRYING TO FUCK ME. I’ve heard a lot of dirty talk in my days- a particular experience where a guy called me his “lil’ slut” multiple times being the worst (you know who you are), but nothing can compare to the sheer terror I felt as David attempted to serenade and penetrate me at the same time. I can still, to this day, feel my entire vagina become the Sahara desert and my sex drive go from 60 to 0 in 3.5 seconds.
Luckily for me, things didn’t work out. Unfortunately, however, I can never listen to “Tell Your Friends About It” without having terrible flashbacks. Since that day, I have mostly stuck to good ol’ “douchers,” who have never made me feel like my sex life is a Broadway musical. Just a tip: serenading with song should remain far far away from the bedroom, and reserved for those who have lyrical talent. He wasn’t even a good singer..