Sex train

When the sex train pulls in. Recently we’ve been celebrating 20 years since university which has meant a flurry of photos of a slimmer, more confident me. I know right? All that teenage angst and I never had to worry about what I ate or wore. EVERYTHING fit. But I digress

The Boyfriend

In one of these photos I spotted an ex. I thought 15 weeks of therapy and a marriage had exorcised all of my demons but apparently I can still hold a grudge? Hey, I’m a Taurus. Once you really piss me off then you may as well just move countries. Which he did. He moved to Scandinavia.

He was a cute guy and initially we were friends as we were both into sport. He was younger than me but somehow we ended up dating each other. I don’t know how relationships at university ever started but I don’t recall an official ask out. Just one day our names were joined.

Things were fine until we had sex. 9 minutes after we started he was done. Was I being punk’d? Youthful inexperience I guess.  Initially he was apologetic but then he got all cocky and he thought he’d done something special by being in my bed? Like he’d blessed my life with that 9 minutes? Oh dear god! But I was young and didn’t know how to tell him he was shit without damaging his rather large but fragile ego. His cock wasn’t so large sadly. But again, I digress. I should have just hurt his ego.

The train

A few weeks later there was a group picnic up a mountain. You had to take a train up this mountain. Everyone broke off into groups and pairs. We wandered off, started making out and he suggested we go hide out on the waiting, empty train. I’d not gotten much spontaneity out of mr mediocre and missionary so this was surprising. He shocked me by suggesting the cowgirl. Wow. A change is a coming!

What I didn’t know is that he’d told ALL his hall of residence mates and we had a group of spectators who gleefully brought friends. So dude couldn’t last more than 9 minutes but he thought literally exposing me to the elements was a good idea? Before we got back down the mountain later that day the story had spread like wildfire and I was labelled a slut. Having sex with my boyfriend on a train was a sinful act apparently.

And thus began a campaign of idiots thinking it was ok to approach me on campus and ask for sex. Guys are stupid when presented with a sexually liberal woman at the best of times but this? This became group bullying. Sadly the women on campus were worse because apparently some women deem themselves to be the moral compass for all other women. It’s not nice to be pariahed for any action but especially one that wasn’t of your making. But I don’t know any of those people now. They don’t influence my life. You learn to get on with your life and move to the chugging motion of your own train I guess.

The result

Needless to say when some women told me what had happened we broke up.

9 minutes contacted me on Facebook a few years ago and I’m not going to pretend I was pleasant. I have come to understand that I don’t have to forgive or be pleasant to everyone from my past. He’s a father with daughters apparently. I think I’m meant to care?

Yeah, it’s been 20 years but I’m nowhere near forgiving him and his nonsense. Sue me. And not all #tbt photos from the past evoke pleasant memories. But sometimes, when I’m on a train I think of that time and smile. I think, fuck, he lasted a whole minute longer!

© Chelsea Black 2017

Chelsea Black is a writer. Romantically seeking her Fubo (future boyfriend) she often gets distracted by misadventures. She is currently working on her second book, first baby (sperm to be confirmed) and first real career. Chocolate and cocktails are food groups