We don't like it. It's not hot.
One of my best friends recently stepped into the crazy world of Tinder. She keeps me updated via email on a near daily basis, and I found myself laughing out loud at my desk the other week when she described to me the violent jackhammering she had bravely endured two nights before.
She told me the details of how the good-looking, converse-wearing music enthusiast she had met seemed to tick all of her relationship boxes ... until they had sex. She went on to tell me how she had never been "jackhammered" so hard in her entire life.
She put the bad experience down to the fact that they were drunk and on the basis that first time sex is allowed to be awkward. She woke up the next morning and decided to give him a second chance to redeem himself. That morning she regretfully took part in round two of the slam jam.
As I was reading her email, I couldn't help but laugh, because images of my own jackhammer experience started to flash into the forefront of my mind. I think every girlfriend I have has their own jackhammer story to tell.
When you look up the definition of the word "jackhammer" on Urban Dictionary you will find this description: "A very aggressive way of f*cking, using long strides with a very fast tempo." This definition is very true; however, what humored me more when reading this was the second definition I found underneath it: "The only technique to rid yourself of a Class–A clinger. Give her a fast pounding with your dick and then head home. She will break up with you in seconds." This is also very true.
Men, let it be known that the jackhammer experience is not a good one. It's not the worst but it is very close to being so. The last person I had some sort of a relationship with turned out to be a jackhammer. I was absolutely devastated for two reasons: firstly, because I had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time; secondly, because I actually fell in love with the guy.
Nobody wants the person they actually have feelings for to turn out to be the forbidden jackhammer.
It was the first and last time that we ever had sex. It was a very awkward moment (first time sex usually always is), but this first time for me will probably go down in my personal history as my absolute most awkward first time sex moment.
It started out really good, the foreplay was great, and I remember feeling relieved about that but it all changed when the sex actually started. In hindsight, I should have known what was coming because he actually warned me with a big red flag right before he started. He got on top of me and then looked at me and said the words, "Let me know if I hurt you, babe." And that is when the jackhammering began.
If another man in the future ever says those words to me before we begin to f*ck again, I'm kicking him in the throat and rolling out of that bed as fast as you can say the word "jackhammer."
I remember looking up at the ceiling and thinking to myself of the subtle ways I could try and change the gears a little, so I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and pulled him in closer. This worked against me; it did nothing but excite him even more and he took this as a sign to speed up.
Like one of those toy koalas from a novelty store that you clip onto things, I held on to him for dear life. Fearful of whiplash, he bucked back and fourth like a wild bronco. I was so very thankful there wasn't a mirror placed next to the bed in the hotel room because I can only imagine what we would have looked like.
Now, when a girl is being jackhammered by an energizer bunny, the only thought that runs through her head is "Please end." To my pleasant surprise, I only thought this thought on repeat for maybe a total of six minutes maximum, so I can consider myself very lucky in that sense because some girls get jacked for hours. May their vaginas rest in peace.
How long the sex lasted for, ironically, wasn't the problem. But how the jackhammering ended is what the horrible part was.
During the last 60 seconds of the jackhammering, he came, and when he came he pretended that he didn't. His wang fell out three times because it was transitioning back to its original flaccid form. He nervously tried to stuff the poor thing back in each time.
Over and over I watched in horror as he tried to keep his little jackhammer alive. I can't even begin to describe to you how awkward this was.
Firstly, I knew he had come 60 seconds ago; I felt it. Secondly, I wondered how he managed to hide his facial expressions as well as he did because trying to push a soft sausage into places it can't go anymore must have been very uncomfortable. And thirdly, I was really sad for him because I could see that he was embarrassed about what had happened.
Like any girl would do for the guy that she had actual feelings for, I snuggled in close and told him not to worry about it. We stayed up all night talking about other things, as if nothing had ever happened. I never saw him in person again after that night, and I will always wonder if the bad sex was the reason why.
How I wish things could have played out differently. I wish the sex could have been amazing so we could have ended our relationship on a high note. But now the pretty blue-eyed boy will forever be known as "the jackhammer who pulled a ninja on me and pretended not to cum."
That's just how life goes, I guess. You fall for someone who isn't right for you, and the universe tells you this by sending in the jackhammer. Maybe this is fate's way of making you laugh even when it hurts.
This article was originally published at Tumblr. Reprinted with permission from the author.