Fake it 'til you make it

I really hope there’s no one under the age of say, 20-years old reading this. Not because I don’t think 20-year olds are having sex, I just don’t know how I feel about them reading this blog. When you hit 30 and you look at the 20-year olds driving cars and walking into bars, they look like toddlers with high heels on. In my mind they’re still children so the whole thing is weird and uncomfortable and I try not to maintain eye contact for more than 2 seconds in case I spontaneously combust.

This story came about because I’ve had no idea what to write lately. So naturally I reached out to my friends (the same ones who bully me for not writing) and asked them for a bit of inspiration. If you know some of them you’re not surprised that the response was - TALK ABOUT DICKS!! TELL MEN WE FAKE OUR ORGASMS!! In hindsight I don’t know why I was expecting them to suggest anything else.

Sometimes Jrunk Talk turns into Junk Talk and for the most part, I really do feel like we’re all here for it. If you’re not sitting around talking about cock and balls with your girlfriends, what are you doing?

Right…let’s blow. I mean go, let’s go.  

Many of us probably look back on our first time and cringe. It’s awkward and unpleasant and we aren’t always doing it with the right person let alone a nice person. My girlfriends are testament to the fact that your first time is almost simultaneous with your worst time. I blame society for making us think some horny boy with a seriously hostile erection will woo us and make it all worthwhile. We’re under the false impression that there will be candles and rose petals and he’ll play “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer while he asks “Is that ok?” as his penis inadvertently orbits Uranus. *Fuck, typing this is honestly making me laugh because they really do hover around the wrong hole a lot. Sometimes I wish this was a podcast so that you could hear everything exactly the way I want it to be heard!* My girlfriends and I share many lolz about this stuff now but sometimes we wake up in sweats thinking about the absolute twat we gave it all up to – we remember the room that it was in and his Xbox in the corner and how his parents were on holiday in Spain so he had “aLL dA bOyZ & aLL Da gIrlZ’ over for a “party” which was really a disguise for “My mates and I are trying to get our dicks wet tonight”. I’m not kidding about this either. A guy literally got one of my friends into his room for a bit of this and that and whispered, “Have you ever had sex beeefffooooorrrreeeeeee?” to which she replied “No”. So then he gets up, leaves the room and comes back with a condom wrapper rustling around in his pocket and says, “Do you wanna have sex toniiiiggghhhhtttttttt?” and she whispers, “Not tonigggghhhhtttt”. Being the A-grade twat that he was, he promptly turned on the light and left the room. Seriously. That was the end of their interaction in its entirety and he didn’t touch or acknowledge her for the rest of the night. Bravo senõr dickbag, bravo.

I feel like the classic scenario is some awkward dude hovering over you like a praying mantis hoping you don’t change your mind while he frantically puts a condom on. He’s been practicing for months but typically the lights are on so he can see exactly what he’s doing from the edge of the toilet seat. The glow from his first gen iPod is way too dim now and its just started playing the Thong Song which, in hindsight, was a poor choice and he knows it. You know it, his pet fish knows it and now you’re all wondering what it even means to have dumps like a truck, truck, truck and thighs like what, what, what. This blokes brain is ticking over because there’s a lot of pressure to leave the room with a notch on his belt and he already told the lads he knows exactly what he’s doing. Sisqo keeps speaking a language no one understands and all these booties going “dun-uh, dun-uh” are a distraction from getting the job done. What if he can’t close the deal and everyone thinks he’s a pussy? “Wtf c*nt? You don’t even know how to put condom on? It’s so easy!”. All of this probably coming from the Captain of the first 15 who tries to fingerbang his girlfriend in public and thinks the labia minora is a constellation. Give us a break Johnny. And get your bloody fingernails cut while you’re at it.

Eventually you grow up and experience a few other people and some are good and some are bad and some are nice and some are red flags *spoiler alert, lots are red flags*. But you’re convinced it’s just gotta get better. Surely it gets better, right? And the answer is mostly… yes…I mean maybe…it depends.

Sometimes Johnny hits 30 and still doesn’t know that smashing you against the headboard in extremely quick succession is unpleasant. Not to mention the fact that your necks all bent up and in a few short pumps will probably give way. What makes it worse is you’re pretending to enjoy it just hoping it’ll be over. Johnny hasn’t quite learnt to read the room so he assures you he can go “all night baby” while you assure yourself that despite current circumstances, you’ve been making better life choices lately. Never mind the fact that your heads at a right angle, your neck really is on its last legs and you’re wondering how long it will take you to get used to a wheelchair. This isn’t exactly how you expected your Friday night to go. Real threats of paralysis kick you into fight mode so you do what many women before you have done and deliver the most Oscar worthy performance of your life. Cue the bullshit screams of ecstasy you’re hoping will end this God forsaken ride because you can’t pluck up the courage to ask it to stop.

Women hey. Masters of people pleasing, particularly in the bedroom.

The question is – why? Why do we do it? And by we I don’t even mean me (for once). I have no interest in faking it 'til I make it when it comes to sextracurricular activities because I just can’t be bothered. But so many women do it to placate a man. Sometimes it’s the man they love and they don’t want him to feel like a failure. Sometimes it’s the guy you really like and you just want him to like you back. Sometimes you’re bored and you remembered the leftovers you have in the fridge so you need to speed things along. Sometimes it’s Johnny and he’s the same A-grade Twat he was 10 years ago who’s still looking up at the sky searching for vaginal constellations. Other times he’s put a finger in your butt without permission and that was the last straw. Game over. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

If ever you fake it, however you fake it, I’m not here to judge you. But when you’ve just been out in a dress so scandalous where you know another ni**a can’t handle it and you’re shakin’ that thang like who’s the ish with a look in your eyes so devilish, just know that Sisqo made millions of dollars spruiking Jibberish to the world about tiny underwear.  

If he can do that, you can show Johnny where the clitoris is.

WIth love, always

J