“Oh my God, you slut!” shout random college women across the country as their roommates slink back into their off-campus apartments heels in hand, early on Sunday morning, with matted hair, raccoon eyes, and last night’s dress. “What happened last night!”
“Not even,” retort the slutty roommates across the country. “He had one of those weird curved dicks.”
“I hate that.”
“Me too,” she replies as she opens the fridge, pulls out your leftovers, and gestures if you mind. “It was like a fucking boomerang. Anyway, so we didn’t even have sex. I just blew him.”
This conversation — the one being had by thousands and thousands of girls — is fucking insane to me. Because frankly, the blow job, if you ask me, is a much, much bigger deal.
I’ve never really felt like sex was the big shebang everyone made it out to be. I felt exactly the same the day after I lost my virginity as I did the day before. I’ve had sex with people casually, and never really thought much about it afterwards. I don’t put a great emphasis on counting my “number,” and I don’t really understand why people do. When I have sex with someone, I truly feel no different than if we’d made out — we just happened to make out while one of us was inside the other.
But blow jobs? That’s a different story. The first time I blew a guy, I cried every day for two weeks. When the time comes for me to go down on a new beau for the first time in our relationship, I’m nervous, reluctant — scared, even. And honestly, I can count the number of guys I’ve done it to on one hand. I can count the number of guys I’ve done it to before I’d been sleeping with them for several months on one finger — and I regret it to this day.
Simply put, a blow job is more intimate to me. And maybe I’m fucked up, but the way I’m “supposed” to feel about sex is how I feel about head, for a number of reasons.
I think it’s partially because of the way I’ve always had sex. Particularly, if I’m not that serious about a guy, I make it about me. I know that sounds selfish, and maybe it is, but one-night stands and casual hookups are, at their core, kind of selfish. That’s the difference between a casual relationship and a serious one when it comes down to it. In a casual relationship, you care about how the other person makes you feel. In a serious relationship, you care about how you make them feel. And physically, I see no difference.
With sex, two people are doing something together. You’re both getting something out of it — hopefully it’s an orgasm, but at the very least it’s the fulfillment of a biological and psychological need. With a blowie, the focus is his pleasure, and your skill set, which feels like something you’d do for someone only when there is trust, and admiration, if not love.
I know some women feel powerful when they do it. They have a guy, quite literally, by his balls — toes are curling, he’s making gross moaning sounds, and you are the queen. And I’ve had that feeling with boyfriends. But for the most part? It feels very submissive to me, and it’s easy for that submissive feeling to slip right into degradation if it’s not with a guy I trust. I mean — there you are, quite literally licking his genitals, possibly choking on his body, while he sits back and relaxes. That’s very vulnerable to me.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand why this is a part of sex, and why it’s a part of foreplay, and why it’s something couples do. But what I don’t think I’ll ever understand is why it’s the step “before” sex, when for me it’s something that doesn’t come until much, much after. Why blow jobs are the thing you do to hold him off before you “give it up,” when “giving it up” is the thing that, frankly, takes less effort, especially emotionally, for me to do..
Image via Shutterstock
Nice Move429
Respond
Veronica Ruckh
Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at [email protected]
@VeronicaRuckh
@VeronicaRuckh
vmruckh
