One of the top sentences that you do not want to hear your brand-new sex partner say as soon as they are done having sex with you: "The condom broke."
That happened to me last night.
I had come across an actual sexy fireman (FM) on Tinder, the kind that seem to only exist as stereotypes on screen and in fundraiser calendars. Except, here he was, a real guy, just looking for casual sex like the rest of us. Even though the county he works in is an hour away without traffic, he lives locally. He may be the closest sex partner I've ever had, inasmuch that I could theoretically walk to his place if I was dying for sex (I have actually walked from my place up to his general neighborhood before, difficult but not impossible).
When we initially communicated, FM thought I wasn't interested in meeting him in person. Because I sooo don't want to get naked with a hot fireman, right. Dude is crazy.
Trying to coordinate schedules to hook up wasn't entirely easy. Obviously, dating is my current social priority, so most of my free time is reserved for going on dates. His work schedule is unconventional because he has to work weekends and graveyard shifts. He tried to get me to come over on the evening of Valentine's Day, but that seemed to be too cheesy in my mind. We finally, if impulsively, settled on Ash Wednesday (clearly, the condom breaking was punishment from God for having premarital sex).
The sex was absolutely fantastic. Honestly, if FM had gone down on me, he would have been right on par with CG. There was loads of amazing foreplay, including moments of me being able to marvel at and enjoy just how cut the man is. He also kept telling me how sexy I was, which is always nice to hear. And when he finally started fucking me, he kept hitting my g spot, so it was absolute heaven.
Until he finished. And uttered that damn sentence shortly after.
This is the first time FM has ever had to deal with a broken condom, which meant that he was freaking out big time. I, on the other hand, snapped into crisis control mode and calmly made a plan to get Plan B the next morning...alone.
Despite freaking out, FM said everything that a man should say in the situation. He first asked if I wanted us to go get Plan B together, thereby offering moral and emotional support. He then offered to at least defray the cost of Plan B because $50 is a lot of money (not nearly as much as an abortion though). Finally, he told me that he felt wholly to blame for the situation because it was his condom that broke (takes two to tango, but nice of him to not blame me for any part of it).
Earlier today, he did text me to apologize for freaking out and to thank me for reassuring him that it was all going to be okay. Aaaand he also said that he wanted to have sex with me again. Nice to know that the line of communication is still open and that he didn't just completely disappear after last night.
The absolute downside to all of this is that I'm now faced with the waiting game to see if I'm pregnant or not. As well as the dramatic increase of hormones that has me super fucking emotional right now and the paranoia that has me lost down a Google rabbit hole looking at the possibility of ending up pregnant despite taking emergency contraception. A huge part of me just wants to have FM hold me and tell me that everything will be okay and that we're dealing with this together, but let's be realistic. It was a casual no-strings-attached encounter, meaning that I have to fly solo right now. Welcome to the reality of having to be a strong, independent modern woman.
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