I’m curious about sex and money. Is there a job where you ask people how much money they make, what they spend their money on, and what they like / don’t like in bed? I want that job. Please hire me for that. Or, at least, send me your bank records, your monthly budget, and a funny story about something that happened to you when you were naked with someone else. Maybe even, when you were naked alone. A good masturbation story would suffice.
I asked my girl friends to recall some of their sexual escapades and rate them on the gold standard of all scales, 1-10, because, if you can’t be nosy about your friends’ sex lives and share their stories with the world, well then, you can’t be me.
Very hard to remember because it was a long time ago. He was my first. We were both confused. He was very good with his hands for a fifteen year old. He loved to make out. Good overall, especially considering his age. He paid way too much attention to me, and I got bored. And ugh, the poetry.
He knew what he was doing. He taught me new positions. He was very skilled in a technical way. I was distracted by where we always did it (the floor of the IRS building). I liked the danger of it more than anything. The impression I’m left with the most from this is how surprised I was to meet his wife.
I was just happy that he wanted to be in the same room with me, so my perception was not one of reality. He was always high, so he never had much energy for sex. He seemed very uncomfortable about the whole thing. I taught him everything he knows. He gets a 5 because I was also stoned, so it’s blurry.
He was everything that I wanted, and still want in bed. He slept with his arms around me all night, every night. We felt like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. He was good at everything. He was the only person I have ever loved to shower with. The only person I liked to walk around naked with. Great skin. Amazing hands. Never lost eye contact with me. Spent hours touching every part of my body, every time. Simply put: he made me feel amazing.
This one is not ratable. The fact we had sex is a technicality. We officially HAD sex, but it lasted about 2 minutes before he freaked out that he knew my ex and started crying.
No possible rating.
He had a good body, but he didn’t believe in deodorant, so he always smelled musty. He screwed like a robot. I don’t believe he has emotions. There was no connection. He struck up a few strange, monotone conversations during. I’m pretty sure he was always on Viagra because he would go on for hours. He moved me around a lot like I was an inanimate object rather than a person. There was very little kissing. I will always think of this as serial killer sex. It was weirdly kind of hot. I thought it would get better as we did it more often. I didn’t get the chance to see this through, as I would have liked, because he dumped me in a particularly ironic twist. I was sure I’d be the one to do the dumping here.
My one night stand. He was huge and had no idea what to do with it. It felt like he knew he could sleep with anyone and he was giving me a gift that I should appreciate, and I shouldn’t expect more than that.
He always liked to look in the mirror as we did it. He pretended that he was in a porno and didn’t listen to what I said. He did whatever he saw online that day. He was great at teaching me how the male body really works. He made me skilled at almost everything.
This one was terrible. He asked if he could stick it in my butt the very first night. He didn’t like talking or touching. I should give him a 2. I don’t where this 4 is coming from. He should thank me for this.
Bad. Couldn’t get it up but wouldn’t admit it or let me help. He was old. He always wanted to have sex, but never could. He wound up constantly asking me to give him blow jobs instead. Not fun.
This was a one night stand. He was sweaty and bald. Did I say sweaty? Like, it dripped on me. He practically forced me to give him a blow job to “help him out” when he lost his erection after five minutes. He screwed like he was going to get hit by a bus at any minute. I ran out of there. I am not into end-of-the-world sex on a Tuesday night.
He was just awful. And fat. He had no rhythm, no idea what he was doing. It was hard not to laugh when he tried to do things to me.
He was totally disconnected, emotionally. Scared of love. He was a good listener when it came to technical requests. Very open about sex. Usually didn’t make a peep, but when he did, it made me feel quite accomplished.
I can’t remember much, other than sometimes he couldn’t get it up. He was my first. By far the best body I’ve ever slept with. He was so hot to look at. I tried to take pictures of him while he slept once, but my camera made a noise and he woke up. I couldn’t believe I was with someone that hot. I didn’t know what I was doing. He was on Paxil to prevent his suicidal tendencies. Together, we were a mess.
He was my second best ever. I still toy with the idea of asking him how he got to be so good. Like, is there a book that he read, and would he share the title with me so that I can pass copies out to my future lovers? Hands of magic. Great kisser. Very passionate. We weren’t in love, but you wouldn’t have guessed it from the sex. He had the softest, most wonderful skin ever. And he was a really nice guy. I was always surprised at how good he was because I didn’t expect that skill level from a genuinely sweet guy.
He closed his eyes and mumbled strange things. There was no connection. No foreplay. No kissing. He was really big and very hard. Other than that, meh.
This guy had bumps on his ass. He was good with his hands which is why I ended up deciding to sleep with him, but his skills went downhill from there. He stared at himself in the mirror as we did it which creeped me out. He fell asleep immediately afterwards. I ran out of his apartment after I deciphered how to unlock his three freaking padlocks. I left a really expensive bra behind in my haste. One point deducted for the cost of replacing my bra.
He had decent rhythm and he smelled great. He picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He had an incredible body. He gets a low rating because he is a jerk, and I only got to have sex with him twice. In one day. That was it. He never asked me out again. What a shame.
Good kisser. Definitely no other experience. Kind of romantic. Lots of kissing and snuggles after. Always made a really weird face. Too old to be that clueless.
Nice butt, too skinny otherwise. He was way too aggressive. Young and puppy-like. He knocked his teeth into mine when we kissed, that’s how eager he was. He screwed me like he was competing for a prize for who could get to the finish line first. Jackrabbit. The sex was all about him. He had no skills, but I will award points for foreplay effort. He insisted on going downtown every time. I’m not all that into that kind of action, but I appreciated the thought.
BEST. EVER. I didn’t imagine in my wildest dreams that it could be like that. I felt like, and this is cheesy, but I felt like I was an instrument, and he was a classically trained musician. You can laugh, but if you had slept with this guy, you’d be nodding and fist-bumping me right now. He set the bar. Others have not lived up to it since. He should teach a class. I would sit in the front row.