Page 1 of Pretty Please Me
ONE
Maggie
“Are you sure you came? I don’t think you made a single peep the entire time.”
I pull the navy-blue comforter up to cover my chest with one hand as I prop my head on my other hand and angle my body toward Kyle, my most recent sexual conquest. We’ve only been out three times, and as the rules of dating go, tonight was the night to put out if I wanted to continue seeing him. It’s a simple modern dating formula; I don’t make the rules, but I’ve learned to abide by them.
“Oh, yeah, I came really hard. Twice, I think.” I nod in assurance, then rub my hand along his bare shoulder. “You’re really good at sex.”
Lying isn’t normally my M.O. However, when it comes to hurting someone’s feelings, it’s the lesser of two evils. Besides, Kyle is a perfectly acceptable suitor, and it’s not his fault I can’t have an orgasm.
I don’t exactly know that it’simpossiblefor me to have one, but I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve never experienced the toe-curling pleasure that my best friends love to brag about every chance they get. In fact, with each additional conquest, I think more and more it’s some extravagant prank to convince me I’m missing out on something–or make me think I’m crazy. It’s either that or… I, Magnolia Anderson, am not genetically equipped with the ability to orgasm. I’ve grown to accept it over time, but I understand that sex is important for men, hence my fulfillment of the three-date rule tonight.
Kyle slides up, so he’s leaning against the headboard, allowing me to admire his masculine form. He’s got a decent body covered sparsely with long strands of hair.
I narrow my eyes as I focus on one particularly long nipple hair that hangs down at least three inches. Why is only one extra-long? How could he not notice it among the others?
I’m torn from my observation by the sound of a crackling water bottle, and I look up to see Kyle chugging it as he squeezes it to push even more water into his mouth like a water hose. I guess he worked up quite a thirst.
He offers me the remaining drops from the crushed water bottle. “Thirsty?”
I shake my head. “No, but thank you for offering.”
Before I can even finish my sentence, he yanks the condom off and throws it across the room, where it makes a sharp thwack as it slaps the wall, leaving a disgusting snail trail behind as it skids down in slow motion before finally falling into the metal trashcan below.
My lip curls in disgust for only a moment before I catch myself and quickly replace it with what I hope is a smile—though it probably looks like something closer to horror.
I want to look away, but the jizz has left a stain on the wall, and it’s only then that I notice all the dried stains surrounding it.
How many used condoms met the same fate? When was the last time he changed the trash can?
I make a mental note to scrub the wall in my apartment as soon as I get home. I could have been surrounded by walls coated in bodily fluids for the last three years and only just realized it.
“Listen, Maggie, I know this is awkward, but–”
I tear my gaze away from the wall to see Kyle staring down at his hands and fisting the comforter as my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. I know exactly what he’s about to say, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.
“I just didn’t feel a connection with you, ya know? Sex is really important to me, and if it’s not good, then I don’t see the point of us seeing each other,” he finishes.
I try my best not to look hurt as I move my leg underneath the comforter, searching for my discarded panties. The sooner I can get out of here, the sooner this nightmare can end.
“I mean, you just laid there like a plank of wood. No expression, no noise, you didn’t even breathe heavily. It felt like I was fucking an inanimate object. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but truly, I think that was the worst sex I’ve ever had. It was like making myself a giant bowl of my favorite cereal and then taking a huge bite only to discover the milk was spoiled–”
My toe finally connects with the scrap of lacy fabric I tortured my butt cheeks with tonight just for this disgustingly humiliating occasion. I pull them on, doing my best to keep myself covered beneath the sheets. “Well, Kyle, since we’re both being honest, I lied about orgasming, and you’re actually terrible at sex… Also, you’ve had a booger in your nose all night, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” I slide off the edge of the bed like a slug as I search for my clothes on the floor.
I jump as I pull on my skinny jeans, then shove my bare feet into my boots. My socks are a lost cause among the piles of dirty laundry on the floor. “You should really clean your apartment before bringing women home. It smells like armpits and dirty hair in here. And now that I know what’s on your wall… I don’t even want to think about when you last washed your sheets!”
“And what does it say about you that you still had sex with me anyway?” Kyle shouts just as I slam the door, the truth of his words clinging to me like static.
I stomp down the fire escape, not wanting to tempt my fate with the sketchy elevator, and open my Uber app. I just need to get home and wash this whole experience off me.
* * *
One hour later, I’m freshly showered and sitting cross-legged on my sofa with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food in one hand and a glass of shiraz in the other. This is not at all how I intended to spend my Friday night, but it’s where I am nonetheless.
I lick the spoon clean before diving in for another heaping scoop as a sob escapes me. My face feels tight from dried tears, and I know one glance in the mirror would be just another blow to my ego, so I opt not to move. I wash down the creamy goodness with a gulp of wine and wince. It’s not the best choice for drinking the sorrow away, but it’s the only thing I had on hand.
I wish I could say this was a new experience for me, but the truth is that I’ve been here before… more times than I’d like to admit. At some point, you’d think I’d realize my mistake, or hell, maybe even give up entirely, but somehow, my need for companionship always outweighs my embarrassment.
