If you’ve ever dated or had sex, you probably have some zany stories. While so many of us are staying (smartly and safely) home, it seems like an especially good time to celebrate them.
Inspired by responses to my “What are you craving?” survey—many of which mentioned STORIES!—and with hopes of supporting creatives who’ve lost income because of COVID-19, I had a blast sharing eight remarkable sex and dating stories on Girl Boner Radio with the help of eight mighty contributors.
The episode includes my commentary between tales, a little background info, fun facts about blue balls and Dr. Megan Fleming‘s thoughts for a listener who’s wondering if her relationship can be salvaged. Read on for slightly condensed versions of the stories only.
Once you’ve listened, click the links in the bylines below to check out these awesome folks’ goodies! If you purchase a book or other offering and email me a screenshot of your proof of purchase, I’ll send you some fun Girl Boner swag.
If you’re deaf or hard of hearing, please contact me for full transcripts.
Faking for freedom
Heidi Mastrogiovanni, cohost of the Movies Not Movies podcast:
I had recently moved to fabulous New York City right after college, and I had joined a theater company. It was a wonderful group of people. I’m still very close friends with several of them.
So I’m young and it’s in New York and sex is pretty much constantly on my mind. And there is this very handsome guy in the company, and I am very attracted to him. And I have a major crush on him. So we flirt at rehearsals, and every other chance I get and then one night after a cast party, we go back to my tiny apartment with the bathtub in the kitchen, and we make out and he is a fabulous kisser and I am out of my mind with lust for him. And we go on a few dates and then we’re back at my place again one night and we’re in bed and we’re naked and I’m on top of him. And it is very, very, very, very hot. And I’m about to say something like, “Yeah, baby. Bang me into next week,” because I always like to go for the comedy. And he says, “I don’t want to come until you do.” And I think, “Well, there’s not a lot of subtext with that dialogue, but okay, let’s just see where it goes.”
So I moan and smile at him, you know, as a wordless encouraging, “Tell me more, big guy.” And one second later, he adds, “So you’ll let me know when you’re about to come?”
I don’t know, maybe I’m too judgmental. Maybe I expected more from someone who was a world class kisser, but I just thought, “Yeah, no. I’m feeling like getting off this sex train at the next stop. So let’s make an express rather than a local, shall we?” So I amp up the volume and ride him into the wind and I yell, “I’m coming!” And as I had hoped and predicted, he then felt free to come and then I climbed off him put on my robe. thanked him for a lovely evening and told him I had to get up early so it would probably be best if he headed on home.
PS I had not come. I had faked it. Because if I may be allowed to quote the Bee Gees, and with great thanks to August McLaughlin, “It’s only words and words are all you have” to take my Girl Boner away.
Be careful what you wish for
Dennis Hensley, co-creator of the party game, You Don’t Know My Life:
So I’m on a flight from New Orleans back to Los Angeles, where I live. And I remember going to the restroom and passing this really handsome guy sitting on the aisle: tall, dark and handsome, like a real dreamboat. At baggage claim, we start talking and he asked me out… So I remember we went to this movie, Jeffrey, this gay comedy in the mid-90s. Then we went back to his place and he wants to fool around. But at the time, I was younger and nervous about sex and kind of uptight and I wasn’t ready to do that. And I told him so.
And then he goes, “Well, do you mind if I just jack off?” And I guess I said, “No, I don’t mind…” I didn’t know what to say. But he did. So I just sat there on his sofa or on a chair and I think he was on the couch and he just laid down and did his thing while I sat there. And then it was like, “All right, thanks for a fun night. Thanks for the movie.” And I did not see him again. And I don’t feel like I was really violated or anything bad, but it certainly wasn’t a good thing that happened. I wasn’t excited that it happened…a very surreal thing. It was one of those lessons in be careful what you wish for when you’re walking up the aisle of a plane because he may ask you out and then just jack off in front of you.
Sewing oats for love
In my 20s and early 30s, I dated anyone I was remotely attracted to. If you view them like a police sign up, they would all be vastly different: men women, overweight, skinny, bald, tattoos, clean cut, rich, poor, middle class, white, black, Latin to their different careers of directors, actors, professional speakers, bass players, lawyers, caterers and of course, bartenders. My takeaway from all those experiences was that you can enjoy the relationships for what they are and what they’re not. Now being happily married. I know I chose the right one for me. When times get rocky, I remember how many others I could be fighting with. I’m so grateful I chose the man I chose to marry… For me, sewing a whole lot of oats before settling down was definitely the right path.
Christopher Hoffman, author of Heart in Gear:
It’d been a while so I put Tinder back on my phone. So swiping through all these faces, the women who want to go golfing and play tennis and wine tasting and getting kind of sad. And I eventually ran across an image that was Whoa. So I was like, heck yes on that and just kept on going. But a couple minutes later, we matched and I’m like, either she’s a sex worker or it’s my lucky day. So I go back and read her profile. And all it says is, “I like to have sex dot dot dot space. If I feel like it, period. Your job, dot dot dot space, is to make me feel like it. Period. Smiley face heart heart.”
Like, what do you say to that? So I came up with, “I’ll bet you like to wrestle.” And right away she answers and says, “Strong arm, strong arm. Pow, pow, pow. Heart smiley face. Like, that’s awesome.” And then she asked me a question. She says, “May I ask you a question?” And I said, “Sure.” And she comes back with “Well, if we wrestle, how do we know who won?” How do you answer that? So I came up with, “Well, if we both had strap-ons on, it would be the one who ends up doing the fucking.”
Yael R. Rosenstock Gonzalez, author, speaker and sex coach:
I don’t know how young I was when I first realized I was fairly kinky… But I do remember knowing or feeling like there was something to be ashamed of, the fact that I was on the submissive side and a feminist and didn’t feel like it fit together. And one day I was having lunch with a friend of mine and a friend of his. She said, “Uh, don’t you think that it’s anti-feminist to be submissive?”
In that moment, my debating mine turned on and I said, “Well, I think what’s anti-feminist is to tell a woman what she can and cannot do or what she can and cannot enjoy in bed. And that, to me, really is what would be oppressive.” And being able to say that to someone when I wasn’t able to say that to myself, but in defense of someone I did not know because we were talking theoretically, made it much easier for me to start the journey of accepting myself and seeing myself as someone who could be both. And that was really helpful for me.
Blue ball riot
(a condensed excerpt)
Now in their 70s, my parents remain remarkably attractive and charismatic folks. And in their youths, these qualities put dad at a distinct advantage and mom at just as distinct a disadvantage, also being raised strictly Southern Baptist and purposely ignorant of all the motives men would be approaching her with.
After they got together and decided to marry, they swapped all these life notes. And Dad, who started as a James Dean wannna-be on a motorcycle and ended up as an Army helicopter pilot, thanks to the Vietnam draft, decided nobody was going to get anything over on his girls. On our shelves, from my earliest memories of childhood, were books like The Joy of Sex… We were welcome to ask questions…
Our friends loved coming over to our house for dinner because around the Hooks’ stable, you were liable to hear the kind of dirty jokes you could throw back at Junior High boys to shock them. This sort of became a problem when narcolepsy started… News of Daddy’s illness did make my only high school boyfriend—let’s call him Steve—braver. Once my father had terrified him as a stoic Texan military man. Now Steve started pestering me more to go past lines I’d already set and intended to maintain. I wasn’t too worried, because I already had a comeback waiting for it all.
“But baby, I’ll get blue balls.”
“Well, Dad says there isn’t any such thing and I should squeeze him real hard to show you.”
“If you loved me as much as I love you, you do this for me.”
“If you loved me as much as you say you do, you’d come ask my dad for permission.”
And so it went until prom night arrived… Steve was determined. He’d secured a private trailer, his sister’s double wide, for our romantic after party. He had a trunk full of stolen beer. He had co-conspirators, a couple friends of ours who he told we were already having sex like they were so they should try and help him get me alone for romance…
I was starting to believe that Steve was right…[that] he was doing everything right and I was cruel and unloving and unnatural. When he came to pick me up that night, Mom cooed over my handmade dress she’d sewed and the puffiest hair she could style out of my tomboy cut… I felt like I was walking to the gallows.
Dad wasn’t in good health. He’d had a long week… But something in him saw me that night, the way none of my girlfriends did, the way my mom was too proud to catch on to, the way my sister was too young to understand.
Steve and I had our pictures done in the living room and he had already whisked me out the door after the briefest wave to my dad, who rested in his chair. We’d made it out the door down the long, terrifying walk to stretch sedan, when suddenly from behind us, a mighty voice boomed loud enough for every neighbor to hear: “Remember, honey, a hard cock has no conscience.”
(Listen to the full story in the episode for the touching ending. *swoon*)
What a doll
Bad dates… I’ve had quite a few, but one in particular stands out. A while ago…a friend of mine asked me to come to her office and made sure I talked with a guy that was in the cubicle next to hers. She had been saying how nice and how cool he was and how she thought the two of us would hit it off. She’d been working with him for about six months and had nothing but good things to say. So when I came and met him, we got along… He was very friendly, but not too friendly. He was fun. We had a lot in common. And so when he asked me if I would go out with him the next night, go out to dinner, I said sure.
So we went out and we had a great time. He was funny, interesting, smart… There were no red flags — and I am an expert at finding red flags. I actually have a background in forensic psych and clinical psych, so it was actually part of my job and training, but he didn’t raise any. So we went on the date [and] had a great time. We went out to dinner, we hung out and it was still kind of early, only nine, and we weren’t ready for the evening to end. So he asked, “Hey, would you be interested in coming back to my apartment? We could watch a movie… Nothing else. Just hang out watch a movie. I’m not ready for the night to end. I’d like to do that and get to spend some more time with you…”
So we go back to his place. Again, he’s just a gentleman… He opens the door to his apartment, we walk in and he has a really nice living room: clean, nice, well decorated, very sophisticated for a guy his age… And sitting above the big screen television is a life-size Chucky doll staring down at us. So when we set up the couch to watch the movie, Chucky booms above us.
I like a lot of scary things, but I sit down and I literally I’m there for maybe five seconds and I can’t take it: “That’s it. I can’t.” I get up… “I just can’t. There’s Chucky. There is Chucky!”
And he’s like, “What? It’s fine. It’s no problem, it’s cool. It’s a collectible.”
I’m like, “You have a giant Chucky doll looming above your television set staring at you, ready to jump at you with a machete… If this is no problem for you then, then we can’t do this.” I said, “It was really nice to meet you, but I have to go.”
So I am about to go and he’s like, “Come on, I have some really great movies.” And he lifts up a thing and he has literally every slasher film known to man in his special collections of DVDs. And I was thinking okay, there is like 40 red flags and one giant one with orange hair. I’m out of here. And out the door I went.
Sizzling with Selleck
Velda Brotherton, author of Immortal Hero:
It’s 1993 and an editor at Penguin has requested change my book to the romance. I’ve never read a romance. It might be fun. Trouble was, I had no idea where to begin. I was a 50-year-old married woman. I should have had a clue. My daughter came to my rescue with suggestions that I followed to the letter. Slipping into the neglige, I dimmed the light, lit a candle and placed it on my desk behind my poster of Tom Selleck: full lips curled, a dimple green Hawaiian shirt open to reveal a bear chest. Something curled inside my belly. This was definitely working. The flickering candlelight licked his scrumptious body. My fingers danced over the keys. Paper flew from the printer. I wiggled and squirmed. Hit some wrong keys. I’m really getting hot.
“Oh no. I’ve set fire to my draft!” It took a while to stomp out the flames and cool off my excitement. The romance sold. It was my first published book. So I guess it was worth nearly burning down my house. Not to mention sex, interrupted, with a gorgeous man.
If you have a story or question to share, drop me a note or voice message here. For the full stories and more, be sure to stream the full episode up above or by searching for Girl Boner Radio on your favorite podcast app.