Bad Sex Week, Day 2: Dan Savage Tries It Hetero Style

It's Bad Sex Week around here and, damn, do I have some bad sex for you today. It's the best kind of bad sex, that is, someone else's. I found it in the book Things I've Learned From Women Who've Dumped Me , a compilation of essays from folks like David Wain, AJ Jacobs, and Bob Odenkirk (love that dude in "Breaking Bad").

These "things learned..." include "You Too Will Get Crushed," "Sex Is The Most Stressful Thing in the History of the Universe" and "Don't Come On Your Cat." But my favorite is by the delightfully wise and funny sex columnist, Dan Savage, who learned the lesson "I Am A Gay Man."

Let me set it up for you. In it, a 15 year old Dan Savage has had sex once with Wendy, his older brother's 21 year old ex-girlfriend. The first time went, well, okay, considering the whole I Am A Gay Man thing. This was primarily because Wendy invited a hunky 23 year old guy, Alex, to come along, to show Dan how it was done. Alex went first. Dan watched Alex "like a dog watches steak."

Despite that, when it was Dan's turn to mount the accommodating Wendy, he felt his erection flagging as he haplessly pumped away. That is, until Alex took it upon himself to cup Dan's balls. "It helped," writes Savage.

But the second time around with Wendy, Alex and his helpful ball-cupping ways weren't around. This was a problem. But let's let Dan tell it:

Today third base is--what? Double penetration? Pegging? Sucking off a she-male in the backseat of your dad's Hummer? In 1980 third base was finger banging--it was a more innocent time--and I knew what I was supposed to do when Wendy placed my hand over her vagina. I slipped a finger in.

Then two. Then three.

It's hard to describe the sensation, but I'll try: It felt like I'd slipped my hand into a large, lukewarm piece of lasagna that had been stood on its side. Only this lasagna had a pulse.

And hair, this lasagna was covered in hair.

I kept my fingers in Wendy's vagina long enough, I hoped, to give her the impression that I liked hairy lasagna as much as the next guy. Then I executed what I, at age fifteen, thought was an exceedingly smooth move. I removed my fingers from Wendy's vagina and pulled her into an embrace. I brought my hand up her back slowly. I caressed her--but just with the palm of my hand and my thumb and my pinky, the fingers that hadn't been in Wendy's vagina. I brought my hand up to her shoulder. I leaned way in to kiss her neck, positioning my nose so it was angled over her shoulder. I brought my wet index, ring, and middle fingers up to my nose.

You see, back in the tent I hadn't really got a change to smell Wendy. By the time I got in there, Wendy already smelled like Alex's sweat and spunk. Not that I'm complaining, but the whole point of my adventures with Wendy was, well, learning to like pussy.

Wendy's vagina smelled awful. Really awful. Like no hairy lasagna I'd ever eaten.

Here Dan goes off on a tangent about how he's not maligning Wendy's particular vag and that she might have had a yeast infection, blah blah blah, and different people's responses to pheromones and how gay men might prefer different smells, etc... But back to Wendy, third base and Dan now-wet fingers.

After quickly pulling my fingers away from my nose I began to caress Wendy's back again. But this time I used all my fingers. I was pretending that I was passionately caressing her when I was, in fact, vigorously wiping her juices off of my fingers. I thought this sequence of moves--strip, finger-bang, caress, position nose, bring fingers to nose, smell fingers, wipe fingers while pretending to caress--was pretty slick.

"Did you just wipe your hand on me?"

"No," I lied.

Despite this, perhaps the most awkward moment in the history of sex, Dan and Wendy did manage to get it on that day. And several times after that as well. But the next person Dan had sex with was a guy. And, to Dan, he smelled just fine.

Don't forget, in honor of Bad Sex Week, we're giving away a pair of vibrating panties ($64 vibrating panties, no less). To enter, head over to the awkwardly-titled post Bad Sex, Gratitude, and a Contest to Win a Pair of Vibrating Panties and tell us about either:
--Bad sex you have had or,
--Some bad literary sex you've enjoyed and/or been horrified by.
Or just pop over there to read the comments and enjoy a bit of Schadenfreude over the bad sex--whew, that was a close one!--you managed to avoid.


Winner announced this Friday.


(photo source)