There's No Two Without Three...

After the whole German debacle, I decided to go back to the Sensible Option, who may be a bit boring but is 1) strict about condoms and 2) someone I rarely feel the urge to sleep with in the first place.

So, just a few days after saying goodbye to the German Menace, I plan our date.

He’s never watched an episode of Sex and the City, so naturally I make him. As always, he’s a good sport about me stopping the episode every two minutes to explain the intricacies of the series, interrupting the flow of the story to tell my own anecdotes and just being generally annoying.

He’s brought ice cream, too! I had complained about not being able to eat much since my wisdom teeth were coming in and he brought some to make sure I could have something for dinner. My favorite flavor, too! I know right then and there that he is the right choice. Who cares if I’m not that sexually attracted to him anyway?

We chat endlessly, barely making it through one episode. Charlotte York gets introduced, and I explain how she’s obsessed with getting married and having her little white picket fence dream. That reminds him of some juicy work gossip. A woman who works with him had a full mental breakdown over still being single at 26. She was literally screaming “I NEED A BOYFRIEND” at 8 in the morning in an office full of people. He said that someone had to physically remove her from the premises. Apparently, not long after that, she went on holiday to Morocco and came back engaged and, wait for it… pregnant!

Of course, we both agree that this is insane, but maybe we are the crazy ones, since they’re now happily married with a child. She’s also stopped screaming and crying at work, which is a plus.

It makes me wonder, though. Biologically speaking, we’re at an age when having children makes perfect sense, but whenever I hear about someone having (or wanting) a child at 24 or 26 I’m genuinely surprised. Somehow, it still feels like a teen pregnancy. I am 24, for God’s sake, and I’m not even able to look after myself. How could I even think of having a child? Still, even if it’s hard to accept, I suppose I have to admit to myself that yes, I am an adult.

So, if you feel like a grown-up, you’re in a committed, healthy relationship, and you’re financially stable, why shouldn’t you have a child? But I guess the last part is the biggest problem. Who the fuck is financially stable at 24 or even 28? I am one bottle of olive oil away from bankruptcy!

Of course, this isn’t my problem: I’m never having children. And I know what you’re thinking: I am young, and I might change my mind. And statistically, it is more likely that I do change my mind. How many 30-something women wake up one day and decide to have kids after all? Literal nightmare scenario for me. I have woken up in a cold sweat more than once thinking about it.

I was saying all this to the Sensible Option, who was both very understanding of my fears and also amused by my mild disdain for children. Which I’d like to clear up.

First of all, not wanting kids does not equal disliking kids. I don’t think I have what it takes to be a mother, especially the willingness to put myself aside again and again for my child’s well-being. Another, admittedly funnier, problem is that I am incredibly awkward around children. Babies stare at me like they’re waiting for me to do something, and I’m terrified that one wrong facial expression will make them cry. Older kids are almost worse. They actually expect me to have a conversation with them, and what the fuck do I have in common with a six-year-old? I try so hard to pretend I’m interested in whatever they’re telling me, but then I get paranoid that they’ll realize I’m faking it, get upset and start crying. Again, I am the terrified one here.

Anyways, we go back to watching the greatest TV show of all time. We cuddle. Everything is kinda perfect.

By episode three I start to get sleepy, so he decides to get me to bed.

He’s gentle, and sweet, and so, so caring.

This all somewhat turns me on. Of course, part of me is also aware we haven’t had sex for a month and a half, while I’ve managed to sleep with two other people in the meantime. There is some guilt there, but I swear I was actually turned on and wanted to have sex.

The start is a bit rocky. He isn’t the best kisser: impatient and weirdly aggressive.

We get better as we go, though, relearning each other’s bodies. It’s been a while since we last slept together, and I’d admittedly forgotten how good he actually is at sex™.

He apologizes for not lasting very long, not knowing I’ve just spent two days with the German, King of the shortest performances ever.

He makes me come, so I’m very agreeable. Until he pulls out and the condom somehow slips off and remains in my vagina. Full.

I don’t notice at first. I don’t know if it’s me, but I feel like I don’t actually notice much of what’s happening down there? Is it a me problem? Girls, feedback please.

Anyways, I have this full condom stuck inside, so I get it out, almost like removing a tampon. Problem is, this means I have to take the morning-after pill. Again. I am beyond pissed.

The first time this happened, I was with a one-night stand. The next morning, when he was practically out the door, he informed me that he’d come inside me the night before. By the time I’d actually processed what he’d told me and gotten angry, he was long gone. And since he was a tourist I’d only met for a one-night stand, I didn’t see much point in confronting him. What would I have done? Sent a very angry text?

The second time, well, you’ve read about it.

So Much for Being Sensible

I brought a perfectly nice date to meet my friend's ridiculously attractive German friend. What could possibly go wrong?

Marta’s Field NotesMarta De Pasquale

For once, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. I mean, how could we have predicted that the condom would get… stuck?

Of course, I got upset anyway. Understandably so!

I was feeling anxious about having to take the pill twice in such a short time, especially since I was on day 10 of my cycle. Too close to ovulation for comfort. I mean, how likely is it that after a German idiot decides it’s fine to come inside me, an accident like this happens?

My cycle isn’t particularly regular, so I had no idea how close I was to ovulation, especially since I’d taken emergency contraception just four days earlier. I wasn’t even sure whether taking it again so soon was okay. And the last time I’d taken the pill, I’d had one of the most painful periods of my life (which is saying something).

You can understand how stressful the situation had become.

Of course, I ended up being a little cold towards the poor guy, the only one who didn’t really deserve it.

I wanted to cry, and scream, and rage!

Unsurprisingly, the Sensible Option was incredibly patient with me. I was already feeling guilty about the whole thing, so I tried to explain that I wasn’t upset with him. My problem was with the situation itself. Still, I couldn’t really tell him why it was upsetting me so much.

He tried his very best to comfort me. He even offered to pay for the pill, which was sweet, but my guilt wouldn’t allow me to accept the money. I kept looking up how safe it was to take two pills so close together, and I found information suggesting that it was possible, although I might experience stronger side effects, which wasn’t something I was looking forward to. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t calm myself down. I wanted to speak with my sister, but 1) I wasn’t in the mood to be lectured, and 2) she’s trying so hard to have a baby that it didn’t seem tactful to ask her about how to make sure I didn’t have one.

Looking things up on the internet was doing very little to calm me down, so I decided to just call Nina and Ges to get some moral support. Turns out, Nina had just taken the pill herself. Even 1,700 km away, we’re that connected.

Two bodies, one soul. (And one contraceptive crisis.)

I am now just a few days away from my period, so whether I’ve successfully avoided becoming a mother remains to be seen. I’ll keep you updated on that.

But this whole thing made me wonder just how much trust we’re expected to place in men.

I mean, if you don’t use contraception yourself, you’re essentially leaving it all up to them. And since I have a health condition that doesn’t allow me to take the contraceptive pill, that’s pretty much my situation. I guess it’s not so hard to trust a longtime partner, but for me, the Queen of one-night stands, it’s becoming nerve-wracking, to say the least. It has to be said that this has never really happened to me before, and thank God for that. I guess Italian men are more reliable when it comes to these things. Who would’ve thought?

One thing’s for sure: I will never have sex without a condom again. Just because I have been lucky until now doesn’t mean I will be in the future. Also, can we talk about how fucking expensive emergency contraception is? Thirty euros for one measly pill! Of course, I’d say that €60 was money well spent. Blessed, even.

And even if you share the financial burden, or the man pays for everything, that’s not really the worst part of the experience, is it? I mean, I’m pretty sure neither the German Menace nor the Sensible Option spent more than a week thinking about the whole thing. They don’t even know that I still haven’t gotten my period. And why would they? It’s not even that they’re bad guys. They’re both perfectly nice people. It’s just that this is my problem, after all.

When contraception fails, it’s the woman who has to deal with the consequences. The anxiety of not knowing whether you’re pregnant until your period actually comes, which can be a whole month. The side effects.

And what if you are pregnant? Well, that’s your problem too. And yet, when you’re relying on condoms, so much of the responsibility for contraception is in the man’s hands. How is that even possible?

I’ve also unlocked a brand-new fear. I always thought I’d be able to feel it if a man came inside me, but as it turns out, that’s not the case! You could be having sex with a condom, and the man could decide to take it off, come inside you, and not tell you. You’d be none the wiser. Of course, that would be sexual assault, but the fact that it’s even possible is terrifying.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that casual sex requires more trust than I ever really thought about. You’re trusting someone you barely know with something that could change your entire life. It’s so easy for accidents to happen. What’s even more concerning is that sometimes you might not even notice, and I can’t believe I am just now realizing how terrifying that is.

I’ve either been extremely lucky or just extremely naive. More likely a bit of both.

I think I’ve had enough contraceptive misadventures to last me a lifetime. If there’s one thing I know after all this, it’s that I would very much like to keep my uterus unoccupied. Now more than ever.