One fateful night, missionary style, the condom broke within a few pumps. I reared back to put on a new one, and it hit me. The most awful smell my nose had ever experienced. This was new, and I uncontrollably went limp. She asked what happened, and too nice to say it, I told her I had an E.D. type of disorder
Aftermath: I went and got an STD check, fearing she had a rare dead animal disease. I was clean, we never had sex again, and she told friends I go limp easily. Nice guys finish last!
This post was submitted by Bukowski.
I sometimes fantasized about other men. He looked at porn online. In our late 30’s, we had sex once a month on average for the last five years of our union. During the almost twenty years we were together, I was sexually satisfied fewer times than I can count on my fingers.
—Not The One
Aftermath: He blurted out, “You’re not The One.” We’re now divorced.
This post was submitted by Not The One.
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For me, it was over when she said, “I’ll never do anal sex.”
Aftermath: I met someone else who was more sexually receptive.
This post was submitted by Angelo.
I knew it was over when he asked me how I felt about my father buying my sister a new car for her 30th birthday. I stated I was pretty used to being 2nd now and I’d be fine. He then replied, “My first anal.”
Aftermath: I said thank you for the message, I needed that. I said I was done and I meant it.
This post was submitted by First.
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I knew it was over when he told me he didn’t really like The Beatles. In fact, he thought they were the most overrated band in history. I could tolerate his inabilities in the bedroom, but this was too much.
Aftermath: We broke up about a week or so later. And I found a guy who liked The Beatles AND wasn’t bad in bed. Double upgrade.
This post was submitted by Rae.