I Was Dating The Perfect Guy… Until We Slept Together And It Was Awful

I thought I’d met the perfect guy. He was tall, handsome, educated, had a great job, and treated me like gold. The conversation flowed easily and the chemistry was instantaneous. Unfortunately, after a few weeks of dating bliss, we finally hit a snag that ruined it all: he was horrible in bed.

We hit it off immediately, which I thought was a good sign. From the moment we met, there were no awkward silences and our conversation never skipped a beat. We understood each other right away. We could text each other all day long and I was so excited to see my phone light up and see his name. He got my sarcasm and threw it right back at me. We had tons in common. He was exactly my type physically and he had a sense of humor that made me adore him. We also wanted the same exact things for our future, which made us even more compatible. Basically, the stars were aligned for this to be an incredible relationship.

He took charge from the beginning which was sexy as hell. Is it just me or is it incredibly sexy when a man takes charge? He was a breath of fresh air in the midst of hookup culture. I was so used to guys asking what I wanted to do or when we should hang out, but this dude planned a date and told me when and where. He chose a place close to where I lived so I’d be comfortable and he even asked if he could pick me up. Seeing him take the reins made me like his style even more.

Our first date started with a kiss. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a kiss on a first date, but as soon as he saw me, he told me he felt like he had to kiss me and with my consent, he did. The rest of the night continued to be just as amazing as our first moment and I had one of the best first dates I’ve ever had with him. We spent the night talking and laughing, eating and drinking. Then we walked down the street to another spot to continue our date and he held my hand as we walked.

I was ready to give up my single girl status for a guy who was clearly boyfriend material. I loved getting to know more about him, and the couple of other guys that I was casually dating landed on the backburner. My focus was on him; the other prospects didn’t come close. He gave me his time and full attention and it felt amazing.

The sexual tension continued to build as we spent more time together. Our next dates were just as awesome as the first and I started to develop serious feelings for him. I had so much fun with him. He always teased me and made me laugh constantly and he treated me like a queen. He gave me butterflies and looked at me in a way I’ll never forget.

I finally got up the courage to take him home. This was the icing on the cake. I wanted him to be my boyfriend and things definitely seemed like they were moving in that direction. We were finally going to sleep together and seal the deal. We both knew what was going to happen and we were both really looking forward to it. Unfortunately, the act didn’t live up to the anticipation…

He gave me my first truly awful sexual experience since losing my virginity. This was the point when my perfect guy lost all of his allure. He was fumbling and awkward during foreplay. There was no sizzle, no sexual connection, nothing. It was like we were on different sexual wavelengths. He wasn’t even close to hitting any of the right spots. The worst part was, he actually thought he was doing a great job.

I tried to help him out. There was no way I could let this go on. I did my best to guide him into something we could both enjoy and I tried to make him more comfortable since I figured maybe it was just performance anxiety. I took the lead but that made him get even more nervous and lose his boner. He was so embarrassed that he decided to get brave and get on top of me. It was his best attempt at redeeming himself.

My prince turned out to be a two-pump chump. At this point, I just let him do his thing. He got his boner back in business but I was completely turned off, so I just let him finish whatever he was going to do and looked forward to kicking him out afterward. He proudly lasted roughly 30 seconds until he collapsed his entire body weight on top of me. Pleased with himself, he stayed there for longer than I was comfortable with so I nudged him to get off me but he held on and tried to spoon.

The whole experience was a total letdown, but clearly he didn’t see it that way. I laid there, horrified and bummed out, wondering if he was just bad in bed or if it was first-time jitters. I’d developed real feelings for him and I thought sex with him was going to be amazing but it was the complete opposite. I was ready to go to sleep when he courageously tried to get me in the mood for round two.

I felt bad so I let him give it another go. Big mistake. This time, he lasted a little longer since we’d gotten the first time out of the way. I was temporarily optimistic, thinking we could finally get down to business and I could forget all about our first embarrassing try. To my horror, the second time was just as short as the first. He rapidly pumped into me for a few thrusts and finito. Satisfied with himself, he tried to spoon me again. “Did you like that, baby?” he asked me, so sure of himself. I was mortified, not only because of his performance but because he thought he was a great lover.

I let him stay a one-hit blunder and moved TF on. After an awkward goodbye, I was relieved to have him leave. I figured a two-time two-pump chump probably wouldn’t ever be anything more, so I let my perfect guy go. Sex is an important part of intimacy and love, and it’s not my job to teach a guy in his thirties how to do it.

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