There are tons of normal(ish) things we’ve all done, but never talk about. We’ve all burned our tongues because we were too eager to drink our Starbucks after we post a picture of it. We’ve all gained a new black cardigan after a mystery sister drunkenly left it in our car and never claimed it. But there are some things that some, if not all of us, have terrifyingly, humiliatingly, and sometimes proudly admit to having done: suffer from a sex injury.
My boyfriend and I were looking to have some “alone time” for the day so we took a drive to a house his family owns on a ranch. It was February and freezing cold, but we couldn’t turn the heat on. There were a few reasons for this but all you, my fellow horndogs, need to know was that our only source of warmth was coming from an outdoor tabletop propane heater at the foot of the bed. You know, those metal umbrella-looking things.
As we started to mess around, things were getting pretty heated (pun absolutely intended). I’ll skip the (not so) boring details and get to the good part– the cringeworthy, tear-inducing, terribly good part. We were finishing up and things were great — fantastic, even. I was confident that I would have scored a 10 if naughty things like that were judged. As I was leaving the bed, (overconfident in my sexual prowess) I was sexy-backwards-crawling. Oh you didn’t think that was possible? It’s not. So please don’t try it at home. I gave him a sexy look when I stepped onto the freezing floors. My confident, perfect little smile quickly fell off of my face and was replaced by what I’m sure was an ugly, terrified look accompanied by a scream. In fact, not to be too vain, but I didn’t think my face could contort in such a god-awful and ugly way.
Here’s the good part I was talking about: I had backed my ass right into the top of the metal space heater. My life was over.
How was I ever going to fall back on nude modeling after my other future careers fail when I have a 7-inch burn scar stretching across both cheeks? I instantly started crying right in front of him from pain and humiliation. Do you want to know how it gets even worse? Because of course it does. This IS me we’re talking about. We didn’t have ice because it was already so damn cold. The only cold thing we had was a six pack of Corona. So yes, ladies of the world, I had to hold a bottle of Corona to my ass while my oh-so-supportive boyfriend laughed his own ass off, popping open a cold one for himself. Eventually, he needed to spray burn gel on the now branded caboose of the Hot Mess Express. Talk about taking our relationship to the next level.
But you know what? I decided not to let this phase me. Like how I soothed my burnt tongue with an iced coffee, or how I added letters to the forgotten cardigan to make it my own, I am owning this most recent hookup injury. It will go down in the books along with my sore back, stubbed toes, rug burn and pulled hair, but this one tops the rest, don’t you think?.
Image via Shutterstock
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PeachyMichelle
I can quote "The Breakfast Club" better than you and all of your friends. I have lots of hair and I like ugly things.
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