During my senior year of high school I sat next to Penny in concert choir. She was the kind of girl who was destined to marry her high school boyfriend. They planned to have five children and had the names picked out. She was Italian, she informed me, and therefore extremely fertile. They were so serious in there intent to marry and procreate that her mother put her on birth control. In my small town high school, this was one step away from selling your baby to white trash pot dealers.
None of this was a secret of course. Penny delivered her life story in such a righteous, nay religiously fervent, way that you became convinced that she was doing the nasty in a close-to-God manner that was morally superior to your plebeian drunk-at-a-party-hookup way. I admired her holier-than-thou aura of fucking, but I never had the balls to mimic it.
One day she arrived late to chorus, her eye red and swollen. I tried not to stare at her guppy-like visage while eavesdropping on her conversation with her best friend.
“I was giving him a, you know,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “a blow job when it went off like a garden hose. I lost control! And it hit me in the eye!”
I did a mental run-through of the blow jobs I’d given thus far. I preferred to swallow, so I had never just let a penis go like a spitting cobra. Needless to say I was skeptical of Penny’s story, but her swollen, bloodshot eye was no joke.
It wasn’t until almost twenty years later did I realize that Penny was suffering from a facial gone wrong. How did I make the connection? Well, I had my own swelling eyeball to highlight the way. Just when I was trying to be sexy and look anticipatory yet confident, I took a load of semen in my eye. It was my first facial ever, and I was trying to impress M. It was our first time together. Hell, there was an entire list of firsts that night, but the thing we will never ever forget was jizz in my eye. I was thirty-something years old but christened it my ‘Rookie Mistake.’
I called Nikki immediately, primarily to show her my new collar and bite marks. I could feel my eye swelling to bullfrog proportions as we talked. She told me that her Mr. Kryptonite shot cum up her nose. It stung like hell and she walked around smelling ejaculate all day.
A different friend had a Dom who’s angle forced the cum into her sinuses. She said it felt so awful she had to petition her followers on Twitter for a remedy.
Then there was the time I rolled off the bed during foreplay, and the awful cliche experience of calling my partner the wrong name. But that was with my ex-husband, and really, he deserved it. Or the time S. attempted to toss his underwear to the floor and it landed on my face instead.
Let’s face it, embarrassing moments during sex are not reserved for the young and inexperienced. Re-entering the dating scene has reminded me of this. Nothing like having a Rookie Mistake right out the gate, but I learned my lesson. I now carry my “sex kit” to make sure that I can at least clean myself up after one of my blunders.
The kit is a small cosmetics bag that I carry in my purse for those “just in case” sexual moments. Visine is in there. So are condoms, lube, lip balm and moist towelettes. I fucking hate that name, but those suckers are perfect for not-so-fresh-feelings. Let’s be honest, if you want your partners going downtown, then spruce up the neighborhood for heaven’s sake.
If I ever decide that I haven’t suffered enough in my life and agree to attend a high school reunion, I’ll find Penny and apologize. I’ll tell her that I now understand her jizzed eyeball pain from firsthand experience and can commiserate. I’ll also apologize for calling her a self-righteous slut behind her back and for groping her boyfriend (I hear they’re divorced now) at halftime during the Homecoming football game. I may even give her a six-pack of Visine in gratitude.