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10 Seconds I’ll Never Get Back

I’ve always had a hard on for men in uniform. Always. I consider them to be among the world’s super heroes. Just imagine Spiderman or Superman. In real life they are geeky and insecure. They are, in essence, normal. Once they don their tights and capes they become irresistible. I fully recognize it for what it is, though. It’s a power thing. Confidence is sexy and if you can wear spandex and still be confident, I want to have sex with you.

Minute Man just happened to be a man in uniform and thanks to Match.com he now had my undivided attention. Tall, Hispanic and relatively good looking he worked as a high school narc and images of 21 Jump Street flashed through my perverted mind. I’m not sure if he actually carried a gun but he did carry mace and that was good enough for me. He was shooting for the Police Academy and had already begun the long and tedious process. Thoughts of doing the nasty in the backseat of a squad car again had me bound and determined to make this man love me.

Not letting the hour and a half distance keep me from my soul mate we decided to meet up for dinner at a restaurant half way. I liked what I saw when I first arrived. He was everything he had claimed to be. And then some. He was tall, Hispanic, good looking but had the largest nose I had ever seen. Think Barbara Streisand’s nose on Enrique Iglesias’s face. Oddly charming.

Conversation flowed, cocktails were imbibed and it didn’t bother me in the slightest that he was 32, lived at home with his parents and had already been married and divorced twice. At least I knew that Ross was not afraid of commitment.

By our third date I was ready for the horizontal mambo. Every time the subject had been broached Ross was never at a loss for words. Provocative and not the least bit shy. According to him, he “knew his way around a bedroom” and had “never received any complaints.”

I’m always weary of a man that brags about his bedroom skills. My experience has lead me to believe that the more one brags the more oine disappoints. I wasn’t expecting this to go as well as he had assumed. In my mind having “never received any complaints” equated to never having received any praise either.

(Men, just a word of advice. If you ever want to know how you really did between the sheets ask your girlfriend’s girlfriends. What she tells you and what she tells them may be very different stories indeed.)

Despite knowing this and being the eternal optimist, I asked him if he would like to buy some alcohol and go to our room. Knowing we didn’t have a room the implication was clear. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone yell “Check Please!” so fast.

At the Ritz Carlton (AKA, Best Western) down the road from the restaurant, we settled in for what I had hoped was going to be filled with declarations of love and unlimited orgasms. Covered in sweat, bruises and aching from sore muscles only to be concluded with hours of shower sex and neighbors knocking on the walls.

Instead, this is what I got…

Pump, pump, stop. Pump, pump, stop. Pump, pump, Uhhhhh!

*Snore*

The amount of time it took you to read the above line is the exact amount of time it lasted. I should have trusted my gut. It took longer to make the cocktail I wasn’t allowed to finish before being interrupted with empty promises of ecstasy and sexual gratification. 10 Second Man now carries the distinguished title of being the quickest lay in the history of my vagina.

Unfortunately, things went downhill fast after that. We stayed in touch but never went out again. As luck would have it and unbeknownst to me, a girlfriend of mine started corresponding with him (also through Match.com). Only by coincidence when 10SM was sending out a mass change of address email and she spotted me on the recipient list did she even find out that he and I knew each other. She immediately called for the scoop as their first date was just a few days away. I told her the truth. That he was nice, funny and the worst lay this side of the Mississippi. Despite 10SM regaling her with tales of his sexual prowess and experience I was able to set the record straight.

Yes, I cock blocked him. I freely admit that. According to girl code, it is our unequivocal duty to spare our girlfriends from bad dudes, bad sex and bad shoes. I didn’t tell her not to go out with 10SM, I simply warned her that he may need a cockring and some schooling in what it really means to “know your way around a bedroom.”

In other news, Hot Bicep Guy texted me an unsolicited picture of his junk the other day. I’m not exactly sure what he has in mind or what I’m supposed to do with a picture of the one penis that got away. I’m no longer attracted or amused and more than a little creeped out now. HBG will now be simply known as Dumb Ass.

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4 Comments

  1. dizzydezzi
    November 09, 16:20 Reply
    Actions definitely speak louder than words! I never trust a man's word when it comes to his sexual prowess because it's almost always over-rated and then laden with excuses ("you wore me out, the tequila got to me, etc). <br /><br />Good on you providing the crucial info to your friend. In the past, I have had occasion to offer that service to my girls when it's necessary. Sometimes they choose to move forward but they ALWAYS come back and say I was right.<br /><br />Of course, like you, I have a weakness for men in uniform, so sometimes I like to give them the benefit of the doubt, you know, just in case :)
  2. One Lusty Sagittarian
    November 09, 16:37 Reply
    I do believe you've written an accurate description of the phenom known as The Three Pump Chump. Usually found alongside the Two Buck Chuck. ;-)
  3. Single Much?
    November 09, 17:37 Reply
    ugh. Did he even apologize? This happened to me and I just kept feeling pissed that I had just wasted a notch on my belt. :(
  4. Melia
    November 09, 20:13 Reply
    Ummm, for those of us facing the thought of jumping into the dating pool soon... well, I just experienced shrinkage. <br /><br />I do remember, from my "officially single" days, that we were given a certain percentage of do-overs. Use 'em, I know I did (and probably will, again)

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