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Becca laughs and shrugs. “You’re not wrong.”
I roll my eyes at my best friend. As flustered as I am at Becca saying all that, I’d be lying if I said the thought doesn’t intrigue me.
It definitely does.
Tyler is sex on a stick. I’ve always thought so. He looks like he walked off the pages of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog with his tall, leanly ripped physique and boyish good looks. I’ve been attracted to him since the day I met him.
To think of him helping me work my way through my infamous sex list sends goosebumps all over my body.
Between my legs, I feel a faint pulse.
I immediately banish the thought. No way.
First of all, Tyler and I aren’t even together. Our entire setup is fake.
And second, we’ve agreed that sex is off the table during our entire fake relationship. I shouldn’t even be grouping Tyler and sex in the same thought.
But that’s not even the most crucial part of this whole thing.
That part has to do with me…and the fact that even if by some wild chance Tyler and I were to ever get naked together, my body would ruin it.
I hug my arms around myself and try not to think about just how messed up I am.
I think back to the night I came up with the sex list. It was three years ago, right after I walked in on my ex-boyfriend Robbie in bed with another woman. On my birthday.
Becca was consoling me with hugs, takeout, and a bottle of tequila. And then, in my drunken pettiness, I decided to write down a list of all the reasons why Robbie was a jerk and I was better off without him.
The top item on that list? Selfish in bed.
So then I decided to list every disappointing sex act he had ever attempted with me.
Even though I haven’t looked at that list in months, I can recall every item on it.
1. Oral sex on me (he suuucked at this)
2. Sex toy play (he NEVER wanted me to use any of my sex toys during sex, even though I need them to orgasm)
3. Foreplay (dick straight into the vag doesn’t count)
4. Mutual masturbation (he said he hates being watched boooo)
5. Dirty talk (calling me a dirty slut during sex didn’t do it for me…he didn’t care)
6. Orgasm (he never, EVER could give me one, no matter how much I coached him…he just blamed it on me, said I was too uptight)
7. Multiple orgasms
And the infamous sex list was born. Becca suggested I use that as a checklist whenever I dated someone new, which I did. But no guy I’ve dated since Robbie has ever been able to nail all of the sexy acts on my list.
And because of that, I’ve felt so discouraged. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had good, satisfying sex in my entire life. I can satisfy myself perfectly with my array of sex toys and my filthy imagination. But I’d give anything to be with a partner who actually cared about my pleasure and took the time to learn what exactly got me off.
Bonus points if what got me off turned him on too…but maybe that’s asking for too much.
I think back to what Robbie said to me that day when I discovered his affair. I had lashed out at him as he stood there, naked.
His lady friend had run out of his apartment. I don’t blame her—I was raging like a demon.
I’ll never forget the annoyed look on his face. He didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.
