Little background on this gentleman. I met him at a popular rooftop bar during a networking event.
His description is as follows: 6’2, bald, crystal blue eyes, wearing a suit that was a little too big for him, with a thick Jersey accent. He was new to the area. He owned a bridal and wedding magazine. For the remainder of this story we will refer to him as Jersey.
After copious amounts of drinks, we exchanged cards and decided to meet up for dinner later in the week. Lets just say sparks were flying. So we decided to skip dinner and head right into playtime.
We are going at it. If you don’t know what I mean by the phrase, “going at it”, then cease and desist reading. This story is not for your sensitive ears.
The evening has quickly progressed. Now all articles of clothing are gone. We have stumbled into his bedroom. We are on the bed (woot, woot) I am now seated on top of a naked man.
Side note – yes, Jersey is getting lucky tonight!!
Everything is on track, the deed is about to happen!
Now, here comes the part that I can’t make up. My imagination can’t even come up with this shit!
Jersey asks the naked woman (aka me, bunny) sitting on top of him, to please get off for a moment.
Now, this is where most of us are thinking the following: he needs to catch his breath because he’s overwhelmed by my hotness, switch positions, grab a condom, or even we are about to fall off the bed because we’ve been going at it so hard we didn’t even notice.
But sigh… No, none of these options apply to this scenario.
The man in this situation needs to take a “space break“.
Now, what is a “space break” you may ask.
It’s an excellent question. My response is the following: I have NO FUCKING IDEA! Your guess is as good as mine.
The “space break” is now up to 7 minutes. Yes, I timed the “space break“, no judging. Oh and did I forget to mention, that he’s lying next to me on the bed during this “space break“.
So, at this point I’m feeling incredibly awkward/embarrassed during this entire time span. I decide I’m tired of witnessing the “space break“. I get up and start to put on my clothes.
He now realizes that the “space break” has cost him the prize. He has screwed himself royally. Oh and by the way Jersey now admits that the 7 minute “space break” was needed to figure out if he needed a condom or not!
WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK! REALLY?!?
Who takes 7 FUCKING minutes to figure that out?
I’m beyond pissed at this point, the mood has long passed died, buried and been eulogized. I’m grabbing my belongings. Jersey at this point is trying to use CPR to save the now buried corpse.
He’s following me around his place naked, with the condom on!
Jersey’s very delicate feelings are now apparently hurt. I know, boo-hoo, I’m crying on the inside. He now decides this is the opportune moment to make himself feel better. After his royal fuck up. He informs me that I was too dominate and I needed to learn to filter. I have no good commentary for that idiotic statement.
Let your inner diva loose and insert your own.
I make it to the door and I’m thinking ESCAPE, ESCAPE! He stops me and says the following…
Wait for it, prepare yourself.
He says, “Can we at least Cuddle?”
Yep, the adventures of a single girl. The struggle is for real y’all!
Quote: A wise woman once said “FUCK THIS SHIT” and she lived happily ever after