Nobody wants to have sex with someone they don’t like. Here’s a story about how I involved myself in this undesirable scenario.
CHARLIE> 40 years old. Divorced. Lives in LA. Works for Warner Bros. Has a pretty cool job booking voices on EDM tracks for a major record label. Attractive things about this man: enthusiastic, generous, and very well-traveled. Unattractive things: nervous compulsions (I’ll explain later…), cares too much about his instagram and twitter followers, and is bad in bed.
I met Charlie at a concert in Salt Lake while he was traveling with the DJ for work. I’m not an electronic music fanatic, but I enjoy the genre and have circles of friends who self-identify as being EDM junkies. I meet up with these friends at shows all of the time. He came up to me and pretty much started to make out with me right away. I’m sure there was some initial dialogue exchanged between us, but it was minimal. Most women would probably be creeped, but I’m not turned off by the aggressive approach. Sometimes when I’m at a club, I’m on the hunt for someone to kiss (truth) and in this sense I thought I’d found a kindred spirit.
I didn’t even notice that he was missing a hand until we were making out on the bed in his hotel room. It didn’t bother me. I’m very accepting of flaws because I’ve been through an immense amount of suffering myself. I didn’t ask a lot of questions. He said he lost it in a car accident. Mid-make out sesh I also noticed that his hair was fake. He told me that he had a condition—I assumed it was just another term for hair loss. I let that slide too. After all, I was drunk; and like I said, I don’t mind a little defect in a person.
He took a liking to me after our post-concert encounter and invited me to come stay with him in LA. I would never use a person for a trip, but I have to admit that I knew that his affection for me far exceeded my ability to reciprocate the same level of affection for him. I’m trying to figure out how to have friends with benefits. Since I’ve become single I’ve had to learn to navigate gray areas in relationships. I prefer to “soulvibe” with dudes that I have sexual intercourse with, but it would be impossible to achieve that level of intimacy with everyone and it would definitely conflict with my life goal of achieving an adventurous lifestyle = doing interesting things + meeting different people—and this includes men.
Fast-forward to LA. We’re in the car driving up the coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco. Between smoking a seemingly never-ending series of cigarettes, I noticed that he kept touching his head. Every time his hand went for his head, he hit his hand on the steering wheel almost as if to scold himself or stop himself from doing it. It took me awhile to catch on to the fact that he felt compelled to do it out of compulsion—and then I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him pull a hair from his own head and eat it.
When we got to our hotel room I googled compulsive hair pulling and then the word stood out to me plain as day as the word that he used to describe his condition on the first night I met him. Trichophagia. Hair loss due to complusive hair pulling and ingestion. In extreme cases (which his was because he had to wear a wig), it results in a hairball. Maybe it was just too many inherent flaws in one person for me to tolerate, but that was what finally did creep me out to the point of aversion.
We’re sitting in the hot tub the first night at the hotel. He starts to make out with me. He moves on to fingering me though my swimsuit—I was ok with this, it was late at night and no one was around. I could tell that he wanted to have sex with me in the Jacuzzi, but I’m far too much of a lady for something so public. We go back to the hotel room. He’s overly aggressive in his style of foreplay. He starts to go down on me (the absolute worst, ugh how could someone be so inept at eating pussy?) good thing he switches to vigorously rubbing me with his stump, which felt marginally better.
I remember thinking, is this why your husband died? So a chain smoker that compulsively eats his own hair can over aggressively rub your clit with his hand stump?
He argued with me about using a rubber and finally rolled one on after some resistance (what planet do you live on where people don’t use condoms?) It felt like being fucked by the energizer bunny on crack; not because it kept going and going, but because it felt like a rabid over-zealous animal humping me. He told me that he wanted to get me pregnant! He asked me where my biological clock was. I told him it was missing.
I trooped through the awkwardness for the sake of having a pleasant adventure. I reminded myself that despite the fact that he was horrible in bed–he was a kind person and I was grateful that he was treating me to an all expense paid trip to California. We had a lot of fun together in San Francisco. Even though the thought of having sex with him a second time made my skin crawl, it was over fast (after reprimanding him again for attempting to do me without a condom?) The last two nights of the trip we didn’t even have sex. He didn’t push for it and I was relieved. I think it had something to do with his distaste for condoms. Maybe he could sense that I wasn’t really into it.
Despite the fact that I felt slightly prostitute-ish because I felt obligated to have terrible sex with someone I wasn’t attracted to, I don’t regret going on the trip. I saw San Francisco for the first time and stayed in upscale hotels. I ate good food, went to a concert, and toured one of the most beautiful coastlines in America. I made a new friend. It was an epic adventure.
So, cheers to me and my adventures that expose me to a unique life experience be it good or bad. My relationship with Charlie was memorable in more ways than one.