Awkward Moment – Male Egos and Pretty Cocks
I don’t mind being awkward, I actually sometimes thrive on saying or doing something awkward to see others cringe. Yes, I am one of those people who like to torture people on a fun level like that. I don’t usually feel awkward though. I know how to behave in social situations and unless I plan to do so, I don’t stick out like the one making things uncomfortable for others. But I have, of course, been in situations that were spontaneously awkward for everyone involved. Let me tell you about one of those situations, sexual, awkward, and that in retrospect still makes me shake my head and chuckle.
I was 22 years old and I was sharing an apartment with my sister. Still living in my hometown, I was a university student, worked part time in the kitchen of a pizza delivery service and spent my weekends partying, dancing and having fun with friends. It was October and I had just come home from work. I was tired but it was Saturday night. I really needed to let off some steam after the stress of the week. So I took a shower, opened a bottle of cheap wine and started to get my outfit and make up together for a night out at the local goth club.
I lived quite central so I never really had to plan to go anywhere, I could do things spontaneously. Not knowing if any of my friends would go out clubbing, I just assumed that they were all going to be there. I checked up on my sister who had passed out on her sofa, her joint still burning in the ashtray, her clothes covered in Pringles and candy. Covering her with a blanket, I grabbed the joint, turned the lights off and left the apartment.
I didn’t care much about consequences back in those days. I was young and I felt invincible most of the time. Marijuana was not legal in Germany but that didn’t stop me from smoking up my sister’s joint on my walk to the club. The streets were dark, it was almost Midnight. I wasn’t scared. I knew my hometown, I felt safe. The walk to the club took about 15 minutes. The rain was drizzling as it often does in the North of Europe. I threw the joint on the ground, killed the glow with my army boot and blew the last of the smoke out of my mouth.
Walking down the stairs to the club, I ran into people I knew. It was not like I was popular. The alternative scene, while thriving, was not extremely huge. So most people knew each other. Hugs and kisses on cheeks, hellos and what’s ups. The bouncer that night was a friend of mine so he just stamped my hand without me having to pay an entrance fee, and I went in. There I was, in the local goth club. Some loud and noisy industrial song was playing and my eyes were slowly adjusting to the flickering neon lights. I spotted my friends in the corner by the sofas and joined them. More hugs, more kisses, more hellos and what’s ups.
I spent the night drinking and dancing. I really needed that! The club closed at 4 AM. Some of my friends were from villages around the city and still had a long drive ahead of them. They had two cars but eleven people and tried to make it work. Some of them had taken the train into the city and had just assumed that they’d get home somehow. So I offered that one of them could spend the night over at my place. I had a sofa after all. H gladly offered to stay behind. Goodbyes were said, hugs exchanged and people drove off. And H and I walked home to my place.
I liked H. We were not particularly close but we had a similar sense of humour and we never really ran out of topics to talk about. He was a few years older than me. He always seemed confident and knowledgable about music. I loved that he went all the way with his goth style: red hair, piercing, black skinny jeans, platform boots, a fishnet shirt, a long black coat. He was cool.
And I had heard all these rumours about him. As it so were, people were sleeping around quite a lot in the goth scene and sex stories were making the rounds (actually, in Sweden, it was the same case and at one point one of my friends had to start a whatsapp group telling everyone that she was diagnosed with Clamydia and literally all my friends had to get tested. Tsk tsk tsk). H was known for being quite good in the sack, and for having a huge cock. My friend P had spent one drunken night telling me all about how he had taken her virginity and how it really hurt, and that it made her think that it always hurts. But then she got together with her boyfriend, and apparently, bigger cocks can make you hurt! Still, H was known to have a pretty cock.
But I wasn’t really thinking about all of those things. I was tired and was longing for my bed. H and I sat down in my room and started talking, listening to some music and smoking cigarettes. We started kissing and I really didn’t mind that. I love kissing and a bit of making out before sleep has never really hurt anyone, right? We were on my bed, he was on top of me and he was starting to get handsy. Now, I was not one to sleep around, or to sleep with anyone, for that matter. For a short second I considered going with the flow but then remembered that I was on the last day of my period and that I really wouldn’t want to have drunken sex with a friend.
He needed to use the bathroom and that gave me the break I needed to gather my thoughts. I wanted to come up with the right words to tell him that I wasn’t interested. I really liked H, but I really didn’t want to sleep with him. So he returned to the bathroom and was standing by my bookshelf, looking at me. I told him that I wasn’t interested. He said nothing.
Then he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to the floor, exposing his (quite large!) cock. “I shaved myself just for you. Look at it, there is no hair anywhere, I even shaved my balls! I had this all planned out! I knew one of us had to stay behind and I was going to ask you if I can spend the night at your place. Look at it, it is all shaven for you!”
Awkward silence. I didn’t know what to say. Thank you? I am sorry? How easy do you think I am? I don’t care if there is pubic hair or not? He realized the awkwardness of the moment, pulled his pants up, grabbed his jacket and stormed out of my apartment.
A few weeks later he told me that he caught the first train in the morning, had to throw up and eventually got kicked off the train for the mess he had made. He was really out of luck that day.
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