After a few drinks our casual conversation took a sharp turn. I promised myself I would never go back down that road, but he had quite a way with words…. that is if you consider “I’ll make sure you cum,” a way with words. He officially caught my attention. With every Pickleback shot I took I sent an increasingly suggestive text. I went to bed giddy but woke up full of regret. What my drunk brain perceived as charming in the light of day was clearly cocky. “You love my penis,” – neither endearing nor true. Thanks to me his head grew 3 sizes that day. I had no choice but to delete all the drunk sexts and pretend they never happened.
After six months of heavy drinking, good friends and great weed I got over my ex. Of course that’s when he decided to text me. It didn’t help that I was just drunk enough to think that answering him was a good idea. After a few more beers I would of been too busy singing “Man I Feel Like A Women” to reply. I shouldn’t of been surprised when the friendly conversation quickly turned sexual. Later that night he picked me up and drove to our “spot” …that use to be romantic. We quickly moved to the back seat and he ripped off my clothes. I guess he thought that texting was enough foreplay because he just stuck it right in. One pump, two pumps, three pumps and he was done.
For us bickering was foreplay. Was it our sarcastic nature, desire to disagree, or did we actually just hate each-other? Regardless, we certainly liked having sex. If you over heard or read our conversations you would think we were both conceited assholes. I never called him “Babe” just “Idiot” or “Jerk.” No conversation ever started with “Hey,” they started with ” F U,” or “Shut up.” Instead of simply saying what he wanted he argued that I wanted it more, even when he started the conversation.. I guess he must of had the ability to read my mind. I can’t explain why but I liked being told what I wanted…. strictly in the bedroom that is. Although we constantly insulted and made fun of each-other… the sex was certainly no joke.
The antagonizing even continued the second it was over. He would always ask me how it was and regardless of how good it was I would respond “eh mediocre.”
After a night of sexting I decided to re-read the conversation. ” CANTT WAIT TO RIP OFF ALL UR CLOTHES,” was the last text. I scrolled up for a while covering my mouth with shock every few seconds. Okay… we defiantly meant the things we said but there is just something wrong with… ” I WANA B INSIDE U MAD BAD.” Type out BE.. it’s so simple, it’s just one extra letter, half a second out of your life. If you do want to be inside me MAD bad check your grammar. I’m not your bro.. we are talking about sex. ” I WANNA FCK U” Oh really!? You want to FCK me. We are sexting I don’t need you to be Romeo.. just text like the literate grown up you are.
At sixteen years old I was a virgin but had plenty of practice in the art of “sexting.” We weren’t sending each other nudes, but our conversations were intense. Ridiculous considering I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. It was obvious right away that he was a ~freaky~ kind of guy but eventually he crossed the line. He asked me to pretend to be his Mommy… no not MAMI.. MOMMY. He would text me pretending to be my son who deserved to be “punished.” He created intense story lines that made me feel super uncomfortable.. although I was amused. I don’t think I realized how weird the things he/we would say were until I said them out loud.
A few weeks ago I bumped into him and his current girlfriend. Although she seemed nice I couldn’t stop picturing her role playing with him pretending to be his mother. It was difficult to keep a straight face when all I wanted to do was call her Mommy.