I wish people would warn you how messy TTC would be. I mean the literal mess that seeps out of you. I wish they would tell you this in sex-ed classes to prepare you for what was to come (pun intended).
I’ve never felt what it was like to have a man ejaculate inside me without a condom until we started TTC. Pre-Dave with previous sexual partners, I never had sex without a condom. After a year of dating and getting the all clear at the STI clinic (I would have been hugely surprised if the results came back as anything else), Dave and I decided to stop using condoms. We just didn’t like the feel of them. I still didn’t let him ejaculate inside me though (because I might still accidentally fall pregnant – HA! Oh how I laugh at that now!) So the first time it happened it was a huge learning experience.
Here’s how it goes in Hollywood films. For a start they both have great bodies. Neither of them feels the need to have a quick shower first to ensure everything smells and tastes tickety-boo. Any sexual position is flattering for both of them. They don’t argue about leaving the light on or off. They both writhe around without getting disgustingly sweaty or smelly. They glisten and glow, rather than drip with sweat and have wet matted hair. They both orgasm. Together. At the same time. And the post-coital cuddle is a smooth transition from orgasm to the woman nestling in the man’s arms. There is no leakage.
Here’s how sex goes in real life. It is messy. It is smelly. It is sticky. The woman insists on the lights off so that the man can’t see wobbly bits or stretch marks. The man gets cross because he wants to see his woman in all her glory. The sex has (often) been pre-arranged, sometimes over dinner earlier that evening (time, location and position all agreed like a business merger). The man has a shower first and lays in bed getting himself suitably hard whilst the woman has a quick shower, rinses ‘down there’ to avoid any imagined odour, and decides against shaving, if the pre-agreed position is doggy (because the man therefore won’t be touching either legs or vag). If this is romantic sex, the man will put in some effort with perfunctory foreplay. If the woman is not currently pissed off with her man, she may indulge in a cheeky blow job. When intercourse happens, the mat/towel/old duvet comes out and is positioned under the woman in advance of ejaculation (DO NOT ask to get the mat out just before the man is about to come, as this ruins the moment somewhat). There are the awkward transitions from one position into another. Pubes may find themselves in mouths. Sticky fingers may end up in people’s hair before, horrifyingly, being swatted away upon realisation of where those fingers have just been. Fanny farts may escape. HOLES MAY BE MISSED. Rashes may develop on arses from where shaved bollocks are being smacked against them 60 times a minute. Then the ejaculation happens. Euphoria is released (from the man). The woman may decide to quickly get herself off and join in with the orgasm before giving up and realising she would have more success doing that when the man is in the bathroom rather than currently resting his entire body weight on her back. Then the separation happens, and this has to be carefully planned, agreed and co-ordinated. A count to 3 is said out loud. On three, the man removes himself, the woman clenches her legs and flops forward or onto her back to prevent leakage. A pillow may be put underneath her bum ‘to help’. The man will take his time in the bathroom getting nice and clean again, then will return to the bedroom which now STINKS of sex. He will pass some wet wipes or toilet roll to the woman to enable her to mop up any leakages. Inevitably, some will escape onto the bedsheets causing them to look like a scene of a crime, and the woman will curse because she knows she’s now going to have to change them. Maybe the vibrator will come out to help her have a quick release because she once read an online article that the female orgasm can help with conceiving. She will probably regret this when she unavoidably squirts out 50% of the semen at the point of orgasm. After occupying herself on her phone/reading a magazine/watching TV for 20 minutes, she will decide to try and put her pants on. She will try to do this with her legs crossed without falling over, but will still inevitably allow a further 25% of semen to escape down her leg. She will put on a lavender-scented pantyliner to avoid her crotch smelling of biscuits later on. She will then spend the next few hours moving very minimally to avoid any further loss of sperm, but of course, will find most of it in her pants the next morning. She now has lost around 85% of the ejaculate, she estimates. She wonders how the fuck people have sex in the middle of the day, or even in their lunch hour, and manage to go about their business without leaving a snail trail everywhere they walk.
The Hollywood sex myth has a lot to answer for.