I've narrowed them down to five so this wouldn't be a 12,000 word post, but I've left out some really good ones, so you're welcome to go back to the original post and vote for someone I didn't include. You can vote in the comment section or via email. The tyranny of the majority will rule. You can rig the game--just like corporate America!--by cheating and having your friends and family vote for your entry. The drawback to this approach, of course, is admitting to friends and family the exact nature of your Bad Sex. I guess it all depends on how much you want those panties now, doesn't it?
I'll announce your choice Tuesday, December 13. (Er, probably, if you can learn to trust me again.)
Here they are:
1. I like this one by Cagey-C, not because the sex is so bad, really (it could've happened to anyone) but because it gives me a peek into the mindset of someone so completely different than me--a Conservative Evangelical dude having his first sex ever with his brand new wife. Also, the vibrating panties would be a sort of belated payback to said wife. Behold:
I went through a period in my teens and early twenties where I attempted (rather successfully) to be a theologically conservative, evangelical Christian. As such, I made it all the way until I got married (thankfully, at 23--but still, 23!) before having sex for the first time. Thus, the indelible memory of our wedding night. A summer evening, a lakeside cabin in Maine. A 23-year-old super excited about the first honest-to-God sex he was about to have. That super excited 23-year-olds bizarre insistence on sharing a pre-undressing prayer, because, you know, there's nothing quite as romantic as asking Jesus to watch your very first time. The couple tenderly undresses each other, kisses, allows hands to roam. Lies down on the bed in--what else?--the missionary position. I couldn't believe the sensation as I entered, like nothing my hand had ever managed before. I managed approximately two thrusts before shuddering, exploding, collapsing. In my endorphin haze, I looked into her eyes, smiled, and said, 'So that's what all the hype is about.' Only to realize that she was crying, and that it all actually sucked.2. Can't keep anything to myself inspired Bad Sex Week in the first place with this story. Also I love her faith in the "toughness" of her vag, "NOT tough like beef jerky is tough," she hastens to add, lest we get the wrong idea:
Apparently Trojan also thought Ben Gay/Icy Hot + sex = great idea. Fire and Ice condoms anyone?
I actually thought these seemed like fun. Especially after the super cheesy commercials. "Burning and freezing sensations in my vagina?! Sign me up!" I was reluctant after reading reviews from people who said they were too fiery and too icy, but my curiosity got the better of me. And faith in the toughness of my vagina. (What can't she do?!)
Lo and behold, my vagina is in fact too tough (and by tough I mean insensitive, NOT tough like beef jerky is tough). I didn't feel a thing. My partner on the other hand had to run to the bathroom to wash his fiery-icy genitals in the sink.
I felt kind of bad. And yet, I'm still kind of jealous I didn't get to feel ANYTHING.3. Gia also wrote about Fire and Ice condoms, but I so love how she shares her panicky thought process upon feeling the burn: "Does Boyfriend have an STD? Is he giving it to me right now?"
Re: Fire and Ice condoms. Well. Boyfriend bought some variety pack of trojan condoms, and we never really paid attention to which ones we used because they all pretty much felt the same. So when he grabbed a fire and ice one, I had no idea. And then it got kinda burny down there. Not like, painful burny. Just like me thinking "Something's wrong, this doesn't feel normal"and "Why would it be burny? Razor burn?" and "Does Boyfriend have an std? Is he giving it to me right now? What's happening?!?" Needless to say, I lost focus. Boyfriend did not. But later, when we were cuddling, he was like "So...did that feel kinda weird to you?" and only then did we realize we used those condoms. So, that's my story about that.4. Jenerosity wrote of a truly epic queef, which deserves something, doesn't it? Plus extra points for giving her story a title.
Bad sex, entitled "Queef for a day"
It started out as any other raucous romp. He was definitely an overzealous partner and I didn't mind, at first. Let's just say he had a way with his hands; just would.not.stop. with the fingers. Eventually, I had to switch things up so I roll over on all fours for some good old-fashioned humping. And it began...the air deposited by overzealous fingers had.to.go.somewhere....would.not.stop!! Thankfully, I was in the position where no facial expressions had to be read and my utter embarrassment could be hidden. I know, I know, a tiny little queef happens to the best of us but OMG it just went on and on!
This is one of those memories I wish I could erase forever. Perhaps some fun times with the no-insertion-required panty buzzer would help me forget. :D5. And then there's this by Jen C. which is just so fucking smart and well-written, and it even has a moral, like a Bad Sex Aesop's Fable:
There's such a spectrum of bad sex. You can have bad sex with someone you normally have incredibly hot, oh-God-that-was-GREAT sex with. You can have bad sex that's good at first, then turns bad. Or sex that seems pretty damn fine until you're done with it and then you're like, "Oh. Actually, that sucked."
I've experienced all of these, but when I read your post, the bad sex memory that first came (CAME!) to mind was a classic third-date scenario that was in retrospect a sign of more cringe-worthy awful sex to come (COME!).
I met this guy in an AOL chat room, back in the days when people did such things. We hit it off online, then over the phone, and when we met in person, we still hit it off despite the fact that I was in no way attracted to him. Which should always be a sign, yes? But I was lonely and liked him, and deluded myself with that "Maybe I could GROW into hotness for him" notion.
After two fun movie outings, he took me to The Inn of the Seventh Ray in L.A.'s Topanga Canyon for dinner, which is really romantic if you can get past the New Age bullshit factor. Lots of wine combined with appreciation for an expensive meal to make him 8% more attractive to me on the drive home. We ended up at his place. I still have this vision of him naked, putting on the condom, and me looking up at the ceiling because, OMG, he had a weird body and I couldn't believe I was about to screw it but, you know. The wine.
Some foreplay, yada yada. Penetration. Ho hum. I guess I wasn't NOT enjoying it. I was beginning to psyche myself into the experience using one of my tried-and-true fantasy scenarios (I'm the teenage babysitter and he's the single dad! Yes! Take me!) when suddenly, it stopped. He stopped. He didn't say anything, didn't make so much as a grunt. Pulled out, limp.
I thought, okay. That's fine. We've been drinking and he's probably nervous. Whatever. I don't want to make him feel bad with one of the cliche comments you make at a time like that. So I got up to use the bathroom and when I sat on the toilet, a sad little bit of something dripped out of me.
Come. He actually came, and I didn't even know it! How can a guy come without making a peep? I felt this overwhelming rush of horror and regret and just plain yuckiness.
I don't remember much about what happened after, but I will admit that I continued to see this person. We enjoyed each other's company and he had money and took me to fancy places and okay, I was shallow. Eventually, that did not make up for the fact that his cock tasted horrible and he always came too quickly. (When my husband and I talk about my sexual past, we refer to him as Premature Ejaculation Guy -- not to be confused with Curved Penis Guy and Friends With Benefits Guy.)
The moral of my Bad Sex story is that sometimes, you need to trust your instincts. If you're not attracted to someone, that could be your body sending a message that THIS IS NOT YOUR MATE. THIS PERSON DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH A NAKED BODY IN ITS BED. RUN AWAY!
It's not true that sex is like pizza -- "even when it's bad, it's good." I'll take bad pizza over bad sex any day, because you can't just puke up bad sex and take a Zantac. It haunts you for years, and only if you're lucky can you turn it into a funny story on someone's awesome blog.
So can you handle this one for me? Thanks!
photo: Julien Mandel, Nus Fantastique, 1930