Even my friends in high school would refer to my own personal life as the ‘Soap Opera of Stephanie’. It wasn’t because my personality was dramatic – because I wasn’t, by any means, but I somehow always managed to get myself into odd situations that vaguely followed some sort of plotline... so I’ve been told. In my head, I always thought my life was fairly boring – which is why I enjoyed the escapism that shows like Y&R and Housewives provide. Although my husband might argue this point, I actually am aware of the ridiculousness of these shows, honestly, I am.
|Desperate Housewives, ABC Sundays|
My experience wasn’t with someone 20 years my junior, but he was definitely the cool tattooed bad boy. I had met him online and he was the bass player in a Punk band. I had stars in my eyes for this guy, for sure – and I wasn’t an idiot not to notice that the feelings were a bit lopsided on my side. After a few dates he invited me back to his ‘bachelor apartment’ which literally consisted of a day-bed, bathroom, kitchenette and a small TV unit. There really wasn’t much else to do but have sex – for the majority of the evening. That went pretty well and I enjoyed holding on to his thick tattooed arms while my legs were spread high in the air.
A couple days after that, we arranged to spend the night in a hotel in the city. From the moment we arrived, it was a continuous screwfest. I couldn’t believe that he could last for so long – maybe now I think he might have taken a pretty blue pill, but who knows. I hadn’t really recovered from the last time we were together so my lady bits quickly became dry and sore; it felt like I was literally on fire – I guess friction will do that! We had to migrate to the shower to help things along – which it did with the heat, but not with the pain. A smarter (and less selfish) lover would have switched to a more oral activity for my pleasure and relief, but this guy was only interested in 1 singular motion.
I had to get up early for school the next morning – and he had to go to work – so luckily, no sunrise surprise for me. Thank god! I tried to walk and it was excruciating! I was walking exactly like how Bree walked after her sex-a-thon. I couldn’t even hide it or force myself to walk normally – it wasn’t possible – a wheelchair would have been a fantastic solution.
Of course, my friends at College noticed right away and proclaimed, “The Rockstar?” I responded with an injured “Yyyyes.” And they just proceeded to mock me for the rest of the day – and I couldn’t even laugh along with them, mainly because any sudden muscle movement from the waist down was almost unbearable. Even just sitting in class I could feel my thighs throbbing and I could have sworn they were emitting heat. I got 2 text messages from him that afternoon – and I ignored them both; I needed a break. Just like Bree, the next time I saw him I needed to say, “For heaven’s sake, put that thing away!” Thank you Desperate Housewives for reminding me of that memory that only now can I truly laugh at.
That is hilarious. You make me laugh ;)ReplyDelete
"so luckily, no sunrise surprise for me"ReplyDelete
Classic. LOVED THIS!!!
and I totally hear ya how Bree's BF looks now compared to his days back on, what was it, 90210? LOL. Great Post!
Glad you liked it! There are a couple more gems in the works that will surely put a smile on your face. lol.ReplyDelete
LOL. It always reads better in books and in movies, doesn't it? Marathon sex is a bit like marathons themselves - overrated and exhausting. Thanks for Rewinding at the Fibro!ReplyDelete
You're awesome! I married my rockstar hook up! Shit.....ReplyDelete