I had actually somehow never gotten into trouble because of a text message before. That’s the benefit of long-distance, no one is snooping through your phone and catching you in unfortunate situations. So, I didn’t really know the best way to address Shmabby’s name popping up on my phone as I lay naked on top of Shmashley 1.
“Well… who the fuck is she?”
Only Shamashley could come back into my life after months and think she had the right to control who I could and couldn’t talk to.
I responded ever so eloquently with “This girl…”
I guess that wasn’t the response Shmashley wanted because she gathered her clothes and headed for the door, but before leaving she demanded the ring back that she had just given me. I refused to give it back to her because I’m the pettiest bitch and she stormed from the house slinging even more insults at me.
I’m not really sure what I did… I hadn’t led her to believe we were going to be getting back together. I had spent the last 4 months or so mending my heart over her, and I was single for God’s sake! Let me tell you, I would find out in later years that it doesn’t matter how single you are, no girl wants to be ONE of your girls, even if you happen to be ONE of hers. Double standards are fun.
*Theme music and opening credits play*
So Shmabby went back to school on the East Coast, a life of early wake up times, shining boots and belt buckles and not so flattering slicked back hairstyles. Somehow she found the time to skype me nearly every night, and so began my life of skype sex galore all over again. What did people do before technology? Write dirty letters? I’m imagining the word clit written in the finest calligraphy right now and it’s really not doing much for me. Did that really happen? Did people sit around writing dirty letters and take the time to mail them across the country? I guess that might be a nice surprise amongst all the junk mail in my mailbox but stamps are expensive and my dirty talking strengths definitely rely on thinking on my feet and reacting to what the other person says, not on my erotica novel writing skills.
Shmabby was the first girl to pull on me what I would later pull on many women. She didn’t want a “relationship” but she didn’t want to “see other people either.” Basically she wanted to know that I wasn’t fucking around but she also didn’t want to commit to things whole-heartedly. What a stupid idea, titles are garbage anyway, but let’s just call it what is, shall we?
This weird limbo not-relationship lasted for about 2 months, in which time I was fairly well-behaved (only hooking up with one other person one time).
At this point I think Shmashley 2 and I should just be getting passes left and right. Considering how much sexual tension we had in relation to the amount of time we spent together we really only minimally hooked-up. Someone give me an award for self-control, I think I deserve one. At the time that I was “with” Shmabby, Shmashley started talking to this guy who really didn’t like me (noticing a trend?). He had basically banned her from hanging out with me alone which naturally meant that we decided to have a sleepover immediately.
That night was the first night that Shmashley ever went down on a “girl” (girl in quotes here because of my current identity as a trans man). For her first time, I’ll admit, it wasn’t half bad. Way to go my half-gay friend! She also tried to convince me to use my strap-on with her and I chickened out like the chicken who decided it would be safer not to cross the road. I had only used it twice before, with Shmashley 1, and I was far from confident in my ability to impress someone who was used to having penis-in-vagina sex on the regular. I mean my ex had enjoyed it, but she had enjoyed using it on me more, and I absolutely hated that. Maybe it was because I hated her, who knows? Also that strap-on was bright red and that’s totally embarrassing. Like, hi, hello, I’m not only not completely confident in my abilities with this bad boy and we’re not supposed to be hanging out (let alone fucking) but does my shiny, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer perpetually erect penis do it for you? Oh, it does? I guess you like Christmas a lot…awk.
In later years if this situation had come up I would have whipped my dick out like a champ, but back in those days I was much more confident in my mouth and hand skills, and I didn’t like to disappoint. Really I should’ve just busted it out, college experimentation isn’t supposed to be perfect and Shmashley’s lesbian sex experience was limited, so I probably would’ve blown her fucking mind. If anyone invents a time machine I volunteer myself to test it out and go back and use that candy-apple-penis to the best of my abilities.
I didn’t tell Shmabby about this hookup because I didn’t really feel like I was breaching the rules of our non-relationship, but Shmashley decided to tell her not-boyfriend and from that point she really was banned from seeing me (which she obeyed, what even). Another thing that irritates me: if you hook up with someone you aren’t supposed to, you should agree upon how you’re both going to handle the “honesty” portion afterward. Solidarity, am I right?
As things went on, I thought that me and Shmabby were going towards a more serious direction, we spent all day every day talking and she seemed super into me…until she broke up with me a few days before Valentine’s Day. (After I had already sent her a package, I’m a chump). She never really explained to me why things didn’t work out, instead using the excuse that she just wanted to go out and do her own thing. Needless to say that I was a little annoyed by this since she was the one who had put the pressure of “commitment” on our non-commited-relationship.
I got over her fairly quickly, I was coming to terms with the fact that some women just come and go in your life, and also I had just gotten a puppy and she was the only girl I needed. Good riddance, Shmabby. Have fun polishing your boots in the barracks, I’ll be busy polishing Clifford the Big Red Dick.
Next time on nobody scissors… I learn that bathroom sex is kinda my favorite thing, don’t judge me.