Sex Stories, Hold The Deets

Remember the good old days when you and your friends first started tagging cheeks? Not only was it awesome for you cause you had finally tricked some poor chick into actually having sex with you, it was awesome for your entire group of friends for one reason: you would share all your sex stories. You remember those days; you’d call your friend Saturday afternoon and the convo would go like this.

You: Duuuuudddeee, such a sick party last night. So glad I stole that Poland Spring bottle of Svedka from my dad, I was soooo hammered.
Friend: Dude, got an epic story to tell you about me and Lindsey last night. Let’s meet at Chili’s for some apps and I’ll tell you all about it. Plus, they don’t card there.

So you and all your friends would meet wherever, all huddle together and listen to your friends’ awesome story about banging his girlfriend. And back then, every sex story was fuckign epic. So when your boy rolled in with a shit eating grin on his face and went into a detailed 20 minute story that he banged his girlfriend standing up, you all lost your minds. “Standing up dude!?! Shit man, I gotta try that with Stacy. I don’t know if she’ll go for it.” Every sexual conquest back in the day was as if you had banged 4 porn-stars at the same time; just utterly outrageous. You could turn a 30 second sex sesh into a half-hour story. And let’s be honest; 60% of all the stories you and your buddies told were total bullshit. I think there is nothing more pathetic than someone who lies about sex, but when you’re 16 or 17, you’re going to embellish the good stuff and leave out the part about you coming in 40 seconds. But back then I wanted to hear every story I could. I needed ideas, things to try; everyone had to try and top their buddy’s story (“dude, that’s nothing. I banged Jenny reverse cowgirl, on her parents bed”) or at least all do the same thing. My friends and I all had to do the American Psycho to a chick. Yeah it sounds retarded now, and it definitely was, but when we were young and stupid, it was the top of the mountain. Sex was so awesome and new that any slight variation from the norm was newsworthy stuff.

But now I’m a few years older. I’m no expert in the realm of sex, but I’m certainly not as green as I used to be. So while I enjoy it when a buddy tells me he got laid, I don’t need to hear the details. Unless it’s some truly outrageous, porn-scene scenario where you did a stand-up 69, I’m satisfied just to know you got yours. Save the details for your horny little brother. In fact, I discourage further details when sharing sexual stories nowadays. I just end up getting the image of my friend banging some troll as he’s telling the story. And that’s the last thing I need. I can watch some porn dude I don’t know go to town on Taylor Hayes, but the thought of my slightly chubby, unkempt chest-haired friend crushing some fat drunk chick just sends chills down my spine. And not the “the Giants just won the Super Bowl” chills, more like the “fingernails on chalkboard” chills.

And although it was very rare, somewhat of a black swan event, in our younger years, there was always the allure of trying to sneak a peak of your buddy having sex. Now, that thought doesn’t even cross my mind. If I hear my roommate banging a girl, it’s more an annoyance than anything. If I happen to walk-in on it, it’s a horrible image that’s not going to leave my mind anytime soon. Unfortunately, every group of friends still has the dude that likes to start conversations with, “So, I was fucking this chick…,” then goes on to talk about how “good” it felt, and what a “slut” she was. That’s good dude, but I know sex feels good because I’m not 13. I’m pretty sure sticking your dick in any warm, wet hole would feel good. I don’t need to hear anymore about her sticking her thumb up your ass during a blowjob, but I appreciate that you think we’re close enough to tell me. Because none of your friends, regardless of what they say, are huge studs in the sack. Dude, I know you didn’t bang her for 2 hours; I was in the living room for the whole 5 minute charade.

So maybe it’s just me, but I just feel like I’m at the point where run-of-the-mill, “I banged the shit out of her” stories are a dime a dozen. Obviously I like getting laid, and I want my friends to get laid. Dudes who have no inhibitions and do anything to get pussy are the most fun to hang out with. I love those guys. I just don’t need the details. I don’t want to think of my friends having sexy anymore. I want to have my share of it, smoke a joint and pass out watching reruns of The Office. Is that so much to ask?

Enjoy the weekend