Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Defective Condom

On news year eve I made a goal.  During the next year of my life I would have a Non-Mormon relationship with a man…or woman if that’s the way I go.   I have had to overcome many fears when it comes to dating outside the faith. (See: Mosters of Men)  And I still have a ways to go.  At this point in my life I had had sex with not one but TWO men.  Dahana was my first and Brad was amazing.  Ironically I met Brad on New Years.   Well… met is a strong word.  More like I got drunk, saw him, grabbed his face and said, “My God you are pretty.”   Maybe not my most suave line but it got the job done.   Brad and I did not have sex right away but it was clear from the get go this adorable young Jew boy had hoodtspa.  

Brad and I made out several times before we finally had sex.  The sex was fun and sweet and innocent.  Unlike Dahana who bent me every which way Brad was less experienced.  Brad was more fun…Let’s just say he was packing a bigger overnight bag.   It took a while for him to fit it all in there.  For the first time it hurt.  One of my favorite qualities about brad was that we had nothing in common.  As a theater going, guitar playing artist I rarely find myself enamored by sport enthusiasts and mathematicians.  One morning  Brad decided to show me a new math equation he had learned.   He whipped out a piece of paper and started doodling all over it. He got me involved like it was a bonding experience.  “and the square root of 4 is…?”  There I was naked in bed and the most exciting thing this boy could think of was rearranging integers.  “I would like to rearrange your integers!” I said.  Brad just stared at me and asked “Can you please take this seriously”.   It was clear that Brad did not inherit the Jewish sarcasm gene.  

Though we had fun I knew that in order for me to really step into the dating world I would have to overcome a different problem.   A strange feeling started taking over.  I felt self-hatred and cruel thoughts of disappointment.  Phobias began rearing there ugly heads.  Tho I did not feel guilty for actually having sex ANYTHING affiliated with sex was mentally banished from me. The guilt was displaced.   I would never admit I had sex...only making out.  I could not even say the word “hook up”.  I still flinched at sex jokes and condoms…forget it. My new Non-mormon roommate  gave me a few condoms telling me I needed to be safe.  I put the condoms in my room but then I was attacked with anxiety just knowing there were in there.   I felt ill at the thought of owning a condom.  As I was cleaning my room I saw a stray condom lying on the floor.  I literally collapsed, and started heaving almost in tears.  You would have thought I saw a bloody finger.  All I could think was GET THEM OUT OF HERE! I could not touch it. Seriously I felt pain coming in contact with these things.  I quickly put on my gloves and grab all the condoms and hid them in the living room under the love seat.  As long as they were not in my room I was still a good person.  I could pretend they were my roommates.  This went on for several weeks.  If Brad came for a night and left the condom wrapper on the floor I would suffer a small stroke when I found it.  The panic and guilt and shame!

 One night I confessed to my friend Debi that I was afraid of Condoms.  Debi was silent for a moment and then busted up laughing.  “Wait how?  You have had Sex? Don’t you use condoms!?”

“Yes of course! but I never actually touch the condom.  I let the guy deal with all that messy stuff”

“Wow. Nope.  I’m not going to let you be practically a virgin and be afraid of Condoms.  That is a Frat boys dream.  I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”  With that she went into her room and retrieved two condoms.  “I want you to open this condom.”
“NOPE! NO NO I won’t do it.” I asserted.

“Why?” She demanded.

“I don’t know.  I just cannot do it.  I'm just broken.”

“Well lets fix ya up!  I’m not driving you home until you open this condom and look at it.”

“…Fine.  But I am not going to like it!” With that I put on my gloves and started pealing back the paper.  Debi started to object to the gloves but held her tongue  It was progress.

I spent about 20 minutes exploring the condom.  It was rubbery and there was goo on it. “AH, GROSS!  Is this wet?”

“Oh my... it’s lube.”

“lube? What is lube…lubricant? Why? Oh...” 

“Just don’t worry about it.” Dedi smiled 

I’m not going to lie I still feel uncomfortable.  Debi mostly laughed at me as I squirmed.  Then Debi picked up my purse and put the second condom inside.  

“Whoa!  Whoa!  What are you doing?”

Debi looking at me the way your mother looks at you when you are not wearing your seat belt. 

“You have to keep this on you at all times.  You don’t have to look at it. It is in a side pocket.  But every sexually active woman need to stay protected.  You are not a Mormon anymore and you have to take on the responsibility for yourself."