This story is from Rebecca, a 25-year-old journalist in NYC, as told to Raz:
Damien and I had been on three dates before drifting our separate ways. But a couple months later, when I realized how long it had been since I’d last had sex, I decided to give him another chance. I texted him and asked if he’d be interested in having a movie night. He seemed excited that I’d reached out again and suggested his place the next Wednesday.
When I showed up, bottle of wine in hand, Damien was wearing oversized sweats and a T-shirt. I guess he had the same idea for a cozy night in as I did. We poured the wine.
“Sorry, my roommate’s on the couch—we’ll have to watch in my room,” he said. Sorry my ass.
We crawled on to his bed and started watching The Hangover 2. Before long, we had lost all interest in the movie (it’s really the same as the first one, right?), and concentrated on getting each other’s clothes off.
After the foreplay had been going on long enough, I asked, “Do you have a condom?”
“Actually, no,” he said. Buzz kill. We kept fooling around, but I made it clear that sex without protection was not an option.
“I could ask my roommate for a condom,” he finally mentioned. Brilliant. He threw on his sweats and was back in seconds, several condoms in hand. He slipped one on and we started having sex.
Then came the burning. My entire vagina was on fire, and it did not feel good. Was I allergic to this condom? Was he giving me some kind of awful STD? I was freaked out, and just wanted it to stop.
To add insult to injury, Damien kept moving me around to all these weird, probably porn-inspired positions. First, I was hanging off the side of the bed. Then, he was standing up, carrying me around the room. And at one point he had me literally balancing on my left butt cheek while thrusting and then asked me to put my hands over my head. Yeah, I fell over. Who can focus on balance when her vagina is on fire?
Thankfully, he didn’t last long, and I ran to the bathroom to check out the problem area. No rash in sight and everything looked normal. Damien was standing in front of the air conditioner butt naked when I got back. I crawled back on to the bed and started putting my clothes on.
He jumped on too, and stopped me from getting dressed. He clearly wanted to go for round two. I didn’t exactly know how to say, “I think I’m allergic to your penis.” So we started fooling around again, and I actually got pretty into it.
He reached for another condom. Here we go… Then he just started laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Oh wow, thank God!” he laughed, “That was a Fire and Ice condom.”
OK, that was pretty funny. Apparently, we just weren’t at it long enough to get to the Ice part. And I can’t believe he noticed the awful burning, too!
When the wave of relief and giggles had passed, we had sex again—with a normal condom. To Damien’s dismay, a lack of burning did not make balancing on my left butt cheek any easier.