cyaluminus

Do you ever find that a day can start well, be awesome and then in one moment, which is entirely incomprehensible at the time, turn into a clusterfuck?

We made love tonight. It was, well, great. It almost always is. This time, though, she let herself go. She stopped existing. There wasn't much in the way of ego there when it was all said and done. This had never happened to her before. She was entirely ready to simply curl up with me and pass out.

When I came back from the bathroom, however, it all devolved. It became clear to her that I still had my wits about me, and that was scary. She was afraid of me in a way that made me afraid of myself. She asked me to leave, and I did.

What I was not able to explain to her then, and perhaps I will never be able to fully explain this, is the following: I lose senses nearly every time that I have emotionally charged sex. By the end, I am a wreck. Imagine the Hesparus, only with a flagging erection. I have found, however, that I often have no choice but to recover quickly. As a man, the world demands action of me, like driving a girl home, or getting a glass of orange juice, or lying to my parents. One cannot afford to be in a witless stupor at such a time.

She let herself go, which was new. I let myself go, and shook out the cobwebs, which is not at all new. She did not understand.

The problem with making love to a woman who happens to be on her period is that you are still essentially fucking a chick on the rag.