Any woman who’s had the unfortunate pleasure of hooking up with a dude who has no idea what he’s doing in bed has probably perfected the out of body experience. If you’ve been there, you know exactly what I mean. He looks like he should be amazing between the sheets, but then you get it on and it’s so… blah. If you’re smart, you stop him right then and there, get dressed, and leave. However, most of us are too nice and we see the experience through. Here are 23 thoughts that have gone through every woman’s mind in this situation:
- Is he done yet? Seriously, there’s so much else I could be doing: filing my nails, cleaning the kitchen, telling my friends how terrible this is…
- Did he even start? I’m not sure if he’s in there or not. Maybe this is just some kind of weird foreplay? I need a drink.
- 1,2,3… How many ceiling tiles are up there? If you take the width and multiply by the height, you get the total number of ceiling tiles, right? I wish I had paid more attention in math class so I had more to do right now.
- Why is he panting? Calm down, Rover. I’m not even breaking a sweat! He’s breathing like he just finished a marathon.
- Did I remember to turn my flat iron off? I hope I didn’t melt anything. I love that straightener, and a good straightener is so hard to find these days. I don’t want to have to get another one.
- Is there a window in the bathroom I could escape through? I don’t want to have to have an awkward goodbye. Ugh, if I could just find a way out of this, we could pretend it never happened.
- Maybe I should fake a cramp. He won’t want me to be in pain, so if I fake a cramp, we can “go to sleep” and I can get the hell out of here. I hope he’s a heavy sleeper.
- Maybe I should tell him I forgot to take my birth control. This should scare any guy off, right?
- He’s so hot. How can he be so bad at this? He’s not working as advertised! He’s so damn sexy —shouldn’t he automatically be amazing at this? At least he’s nice to look at.
- I wasted my matching bra and panties on this?! I only have, like, two sets that don’t have superheroes on them and are actually sexy. Now I’ll have to do laundry before I see John on Saturday. Ugh.
- Thank God I had that extra glass of wine. Otherwise I’d be way too interested in what isn’t going on right now, which is me getting off… That’s definitely not happening tonight.
- God, why didn’t I have that extra glass of wine? I was trying not to be a lush just in case we ended up in bed! Now all I can think about it that glass of wine… why, God, why?
- Is he even hard? I swear he didn’t look this tiny when we were fooling around… but I can’t tell if he’s hard. Maybe he’s soft? OMG, does he think I’m as bad at this as I think he is? Did I make him go soft?
- I. Am. So. Tired. Spin class was so long today, and work lasted forever. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night watching Supernatural. I need a nap! Is it rude to fall asleep?
- I need to change my number. Because I cannot handle this guy ever again. Please don’t text me, please don’t text me…
- My ex was so good in bed… sigh. Too bad he is such a douche, because he knew exactly what to do. Maybe I could just call him tomorrow and we could… no, that’s an awful idea!
- If I pretend to get off, will he finish up already? Maybe he’s waiting for me to get off before he does? “Oh, oh, oh, god, yes!!” Was I convincing?
- I’ll just say I have to pee and sneak out the back. I actually do have to pee…
- I wish he would stop slobbering on me. How can he be sweating so much and still have all of that saliva left in his mouth? Ew.
- If he says, “Oh, baby” one more time, I’m going to puke. I am not your baby, and saying it over and over again isn’t helping make this better. Just shut up, have sex with me, and get off!
- He’s humping me like a dog. I wonder how many girls he’s been with. None of them told him he was so bad in bed?
- I shouldn’t have bothered shaving. Or doing my hair, wearing perfume, getting dressed up, coming on this date… basically today was a wash.
- Damn you, Tinder! I take no responsibility for any of this and blame it all on Tinder, even though I’ll be swiping again by next weekend.
