Fate doesn’t always deal us the best cards. There are instances in my life where I said NO sex. I turned a beautiful girl down. Twice. And it hurt. A lot!
As a guy, saying no to a girl offering sex is not something you are prepared for — and if you are ever in the position where you must do it, be ready, for you will never forget it.
I said NO sex – twice. It Hurt and I have never forgotten it.
It Hurt to Say NO Sex!
I am a guy. That means I am not the person in control. The one with the vagina makes the rules and controls the visitation rights. Unless we are in a long-term relationship (and sometimes even then this isn’t true), we are completely at the mercy of girls who decided whether they want to have sex with us or not.
You might not agree, especially if you were one of those “2-percenters”: a jock, a “cool” kid; a complete “bad boy” or even that kid who had the ‘vette. The 2-percenters had more opportunity to have sex, and no matter how you look at it, girls would throw themselves to these guys. Girls that KNEW they would be used and never be seen with the guy in public; girls that KNEW it was a one-night stand even though they kept telling how much they “love him”. The 2-percenters made bets on which one of the girls they could score with the fastest. Anyone that they couldn’t score with were “ice queens”.
Away from the hot boys were the nice guys. The nice guys were on the other side of the room. They might have been nerdy; shy or reserved; or just didn’t care to get caught up in the cliques, politics or games of school. Most likely they weren’t good at sports, and had less confidence. On a side note, two of those quiet, reserved, nerdy nice guys grew up to be multi-billionaires by starting a little search engine called Google. But that is another story.
Many of the nice guys realized that they would stay out of the drama; finish school; and then begin their lives on a level playing field. Let’s face it – school was never a level playing field. But nice guys knew that their ability to get laid was limited – and it was 100% controlled by the girls. They guys also knew that it didn’t matter who THEY liked; power rested with the girls and the best they could do was to wait for girls to pick them.
Sometimes the really hot girls would pick the good guys; for no apparent reason other than the luck of the draw. And when this happened, the last thing you ever wanted to do was to reject the girl or turn her down. Looking back, what guy in their right mind would say no sex; especially with one of the popular girls?
But fate doesn’t always deal us the best cards. There are two instances in my life where I said NO to sex. And it hurt. A lot.
I was already out of school and my friend was visiting my house. He was still in school, and luckily for him, was an in-the-middle guy – neither popular non un-popular. Well, actually, to be honest, he professed to having a big dick, and it attracted the attention of many stay-at-home moms that were not on the skinny side – something he realized later was “his style”. As a caveat, this was many years ago, before the “age of consent” laws became a serious crime. He always had “moms” calling him to come visit. As soon as he was finished at school. “Just stop by”. Lucky little shit.
Anyway, I digress. While he was at my house, a school girl (taking a break from the “moms”) he was talking to on the phone told him she wanted to hook up: as in RIGHT NOW. I told him it would be ok, and to tell her to come over and that he could use the guest bedroom.
Half hour later, she arrives in the company of one of the hotter, most sought after girls from his school. Both were seniors, and hottie-pants was no child in anyone’s imagination (does anyone remember “Phoebe Cates” in the famous bathing suit at the pool scene in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”?) How many of you wanted her and never considered that she was underage?
My friend and his girl introduce me to “hottie-pants” and headed off to the spare bedroom. I knew time was limited, as the girl could only stay one hour, so I knew there would be no delay in their disappearance.
I assumed I was supposed to keep the friend company in front of the television while they stayed busy. You know – “wingman” job. Keep one girl “amused” and content while your best bud can hook up with the other girl. Fine with me – I was home watching TV anyway.
We watched TV and talked. We got along just fine – but you could just tell that we weren’t an even match and we wouldn’t be getting along like this tomorrow; or in public. She was out of my league. It was just the situation we were in at the moment and we were making the best of it.
Forty-five minutes into the evening, hottie-pants turns to me, without warning, and said, “We have 15 minutes. Do you want to have sex with me”? A question like that would make a deaf man hear again. But I did something at that moment that I still remember today … and I am writing this almost 30 years later.
I answered as truthfully as I could, with all my heart. 15 minutes wasn’t enough time for us to have good sex since I hadn’t showered; I was sweaty. She was clean, but then, in normal situations, she should clean up (at least wash her pek pek) also.
“What are you doing tomorrow” I asked. The answer was meaningless, and any promise to see me later was simply to pacify me to not speak anymore.
I had dishonored her. I had rejected hottie-pants. ME. Of all people! I am not good enough FOR hottie-pants, how could this have happened. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t used to being turned down. She especially wasn’t used to being turned down for sex. Ever.
Who in their right mind would turn this beautiful girl down because 15 minutes wasn’t long enough? It is a decision that I wrestled with for years. Needless to say I never saw her again. I had been offered sexual intercourse, with no strings, no obligation, no promises, with one of the hottest girls, and I said NO.
Thirty years later, I still wonder why I did it. Was I really concerned that I was that dirty and needed a shower? Or did I have some secret desire to reject someone who was NEVER rejected, and always got what she wanted? Or did I have some type of Narcissistic Personality Disorder that led me to believe that I wouldn’t be able to provide her with amazing sex in only 15 minutes.
That is it. I am a narcissist. I was afraid that I wouldn’t or couldn’t please her in 15 minutes start-to-finish and she would spread the word that I was a bad lay. So I said no. Wow. You will never know how much that decision hurt, and still bothers me 30 years later.
But a few days after this fateful night, my friend, who was up-to-date on the entire story, told me that his girl had just told him that hottie-pants was below the age of consent. WAY below the age of consent! But no one knew the truth because of the way she looked, carried herself – and told everyone a fake age.
To the best of my knowledge, she never told the story of what happened at my house that night. Being rejected was likely something she didn’t want to admit. I knew that I had dodged a bullet. Who knows if anything would have come out of our hook-up … but she could have placed me over a barrel for a long time with the threat of exposing our rendezvous.
A perfect catch-22 situation: I regret saying no; but I’m happy that it was the right decision. It was only the right decision in hind-sight. But for days after, I beat myself up unmercifully as a disgrace to the male population.
The second time I remember saying NO sex occurred in completely different circumstances. The girls involved had become “legal” many years before. There was no concern about the legalities of their age.
I have never told this story, and I hope that the few people who could recognize themselves by the comments and nicknames in this post are not reading what I write. Let’s all hope they aren’t among my five readers.
I owned a weekend house on the lake that I would go to as often as possible. One of my ex-girlfriends was actively and happily bisexual, and had moved on from dating me to dating a gorgeous little spinner with a pretty face, and a perfect body. She loved Minnie Mouse, so that is what I started calling her. She found it slightly amusing.
Minnie Mouse was more lesbian than bisexual, and had recently cut her hair short and boyish. With her small face, and petite body, the short hair didn’t make her look boyish at all. Instead it made her look even hotter, and the attention she was getting from guys increased rather than decreased.
The haircut was to help her with her transition to being “more lesbian”. She had a few bad experiences with guys in the past, and had lost interest in guys. As she put it, she “wasn’t comfortable” around guys anymore. My Ex had explained during an unrelated conversation, that Minnie “couldn’t stand” the thought of being with a guy anymore. She had also only had intercourse with one guy a few times in her life; and it was a terrible experience each time. It had been years since she had been intimate with a guy because of that. I knew all this from my Ex who loves to talk.
I never trusted Minnie. I could never put my finger on it, except to feel that she had some jealousy that I had been with her girlfriend, and was still quite close to her. Sometimes you can put words to your feelings; you just have a gut feeling that won’t go away. I had always had that gut feeling with her.
Back to the lake house. My Ex had asked if she and Minnie could spend the weekend with me at the lake, riding jet skis, drinking, big fancy meals, sitting in the hot tub, etc. I was alone that weekend and told her they were welcome to stay. I had met Minnie a few times but never really got to know her. And because of the situation, I didn’t give her a second thought.
Had I met her in any normal circumstances, I would have pursued Minnie to the ends of the Earth. I was smitten; completely taken by the entire package she presented. But I also needed to keep that to myself and remember that she was my ex-girlfriend’s new partner and I did not have any interest in making either of them uncomfortable.
That is harder said than done. Any guy who is honest will tell you that his flirt factor unintentionally soars when someone is around him that he is really attracted to. He gets all gooey. You can tell in a guy’s eyes, face, and the tone of his speech, when he is very attracted to someone nearby. It isn’t intentional; and it isn’t controllable. We just get stupid – like we lost our ability to speak in complete sentences. At that moment, we look like Olaf from Frozen.
We did all the things I said we would do. Rode the jet skis for hours; water skied; pulled them on the tube; we ate, drank, laughed and spent time in the hot tub. The first day went well; everyone exhausted from a fun day and off to sleep for a repeat the next day.
The next day was a repeat of the day before. We spent the day doing all the things we would do at the lake house. In the evening, after a painfully huge dinner, we retired to the Jacuzzi … with big-gulp sized cups filled with either alcohol or ice water.
My house was always full of different brands and qualities of Tequila. At the time, it was my favorite drink. The girls were starting to make stronger and stronger drinks, until the point when it was obvious that they were lit.
Bikinis came off and the two girls started having sex, with one on the edge of the tub and one still in the tub. I decided to leave them and give them their time.
One of them, I don’t remember who, said “You don’t have to go. You can stay and watch if you want”. I’m not sure about you, but as a voyeur at heart, I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy the show. And I thoroughly enjoyed the 20 or 30 minutes that they made love. I sat quietly, sipping my drink, thinking that life could be much worse.
They stopped and got out of the water, announcing they were going in. I told them good night and that I would cover the tub in a little while as I was going to stay for another half hour or so. Then entered the house, and went to their bedroom, or so I assumed.
A short time later, I decided it was time for me to call it a night. I covered the tub and collected all the cups and brought them inside. I locked up and as I walked down the hall, my Ex came out of MY room. She put her arms around me and gave me a very sensual, but drunk, kiss, and told me that she and Minnie were in MY bed, and they wanted to have a three-some.
She said that Minnie had heard for years that I was a gentle lover, and decided tonight that she wanted to have sex with me with her girlfriend there also.
I can’t begin to tell you the thoughts that went through my mind. I was infatuated with Minnie. I was erect the second my Ex told me that Minnie wanted to get together. To use a terribly old cliché, it was a dream come true.
But just as soon as the excitement popped up, with the angel on one shoulder … the devil popped up on the other and brought me back to reality. Remember that I said I didn’t trust Minnie? And I said she had a “problem” or an “issue” with all guys?
AT THIS EXACT MOMENT, I made another decision that has bothered me for the past 20 years since this happened. I said NO sex with Minnie.
How, or why, you might ask, could I say no to my dream girl? A girl that I was completely infatuated with and had played the scenario over in my mind so many times of having sex with her? We didn’t have the term back then, but in today’s terminology, she was the perfect “spank bank” material. But I said NO sex.
In that split second, I thought about jail and my freedom. I knew Minnie was extremely drunk. I knew she had barely made it in the house with help from my Ex. Right now, she was at that point where you appear to be going in and out of drunken consciousness.
I remembered she didn’t trust – or like – guys. I knew she had not had sex with a male in years because of problems in her past.
And now she is in my bed, with my Ex, and wanted me to have sex with both of them.
I could not clear the hurdle of CONSENT. She was (loudly) proclaiming her interest in a three-some and of having intercourse with me. There was no confusion that she was fully invested in this; it was obvious that she hatched this plan, rather than my ex. Then, after saying “let’s go” a few times, she would zonk out for 15-30 seconds and then repeat the process.
Remember, this was LONG before #metoo had reared its ugly head, so don’t think that metoo had anything to do with this. Yes, I dislike the #metoo movement with a passion, but that also, is another story.
I said no sex. I said no. One of the most frustrating things I have ever done.
I explained to my Ex that Minnie was too drunk, and that she couldn’t really consent to the actions she was asking for. And I didn’t trust Minnie enough. All I could think of was her waking up in the morning, in my bed, knowing she had been penetrated; and flying off the handle to the local police station to file a rape complaint. She had been drunk almost to the point of passing out remember? The next morning, she would not have remembered that she was the instigator and the one pushing both of us. In the morning, she could have been “But, I was drunk”.
I told my Ex, that I would do anything for us to sleep this off, and have this opportunity in the morning, when we were sober, and everyone was 100% able and willing. My Ex understood, as she didn’t want any trouble like this, and my explanation and worry made sense. At a different time, my Ex agreed that she was slightly concerned about Minnie being so drunk and what the repercussions would be like in the morning.
It didn’t make sense to Minnie however. She lost her drunkenness as soon as my Ex explained why I wouldn’t participate. She proceeded to berate me and all my man hood … as well as my brethren males … as she walked back to the guest bedroom where they were staying.
The next morning, she awakened early and pushed my Ex to get up and leave.
She had more to say to me about my actions the night before, including that I refused to have sex with her because I was afraid to be with a “real woman” as I would never have been able to please her. I don’t know where that came from, but it was part of the wrath that I would be receiving for the next hour or so while they packed and loaded their car.
She was so lucid about the night, that it made me realize that her level of intoxication was an act to allow her the freedom to do something that she had apparently wanted. She knew every moment of the night before; there was nothing lost to Tequila. There wasn’t one moment of “fog” that morning.
My Ex was caught in the middle and didn’t know what to say or do. As they packed the car to leave, she kept rather quiet and allowed Minnie to continue to vent against me.
After they left, I sat down and thought about all that had happened, wondering if there was something I could have or should have done differently.
I wanted to have sex with Minnie so bad. In fact, it was worse than that – if she and my Ex weren’t together, I would have tried everything to date her. My excitement for her was mesmerizing. She had a beautiful face; an incredible body; a shy personality, with a smile that made ME want to smile.
And yet, here I was, sad, belittled, and second-guessing my decision, to say NO sex to the offer of a night of incredible drunken sexual debauchery with a dream girl; a girl that was fearful of guys, yet decided she wanted to try again and she chose me to be the one to penetrate her. I would have been the second man that had penetrated her.
And I told her NO sex. I refused to have sex with my dream girl.
I will never forget that I said NO to the opportunity to get laid. Twice that I can remember. Even with all the years that have passed, I remember these instances like they were last week. Boys don’t say no sex and turn down girls that are offering sex without obligations.
Ask any bi or heterosexual guy you are around that is over 25 … “Have you ever said no sex with any girl?” Coffee is on me if you get a “yes” response. Be sure to ask the details because I want to know how my “bro” coped with that very difficult moment in life. Or better yet, what would you have done?
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