When I was a freshman in high school, my first serious girlfriend opened me up to the wonders of make-out marathons. Although there was no actual sex, there was that (in hindsight, depressing) orgasm-through-clothing experience-but only her clothing, her orgasms. Soon, it became expected, and never reciprocated. As summer approached, she made it clear that we were going to sleep together, but I was growing physically sore and weary of our lop-sided mash sessions. I didn’t mind “waiting” and wasn’t applying pressure, but her attitude irked me. Once, just before summer break, she joked, “Well, I could always say no.” So could I. Sex was power and a game to her, and I took my piece off the board. So to speak.

—John

Aftermath: I didn’t call her much after that, and handled it very badly, dragging out the official breakup until after the summer.

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