There comes a time in many
relationships when your dude turns to you nervously and pops the big
question: "So, uh, can we try it without, like, condoms sometime?"
Let me paint you a picture of what might happen next. After checking all the right boxes — getting STI-negative results
and waiting out the adjustment period for your new birth control to
kick in — you finally embark on what is considered to be "more intimate"
sexual experience.
"Ugh, it's so amazing to, like, really feel you," he'll say between restrained thrusts. But if you're really
being honest with yourself, the difference between his peen flesh and a
thin, lubed-up piece of latex is minimal at best. Sensation-wise, it's
not like it's doing more for you; his natural junk is disappointingly not ribbed for your pleasure. Actually, when you think about it, what exactly do you get out of this deal?
A vagina full of semen. I hate it put it so bluntly, but that's what you get. He finishes inside you, and what was once his responsibility of discreetly going to the bathroom and tossing a lil rubber bag of his
fluids has now been passed over to you. Except you have no such compact
carrying case. You now have the lovely task of hopping out of bed and
sprinting to the bathroom before a viscous rivulet of his semen drips
down your legs and onto your Anthropologie bathmat. But that's if you're
lucky. Sometimes semen picks a random time to aggressively trickle out —
like brunch, 40 minutes later, or while you're walking through
11-degree weather, wondering how cold it has to be for your boyfriend's
spunk to freeze into the world's grodiest underwear icicle.
Tell
me: Do you really feel closer to a person when you finally turn on the
lights and realize your bedsheets, blankets, and pillows all now
resemble a 60 Minutes hotel hygiene
exposé, minus the blacklight? Because post-sex, there is likely cuddling
and rolling around in bed, which means all your freshly washed,
extra-soft, luxury linen sheets are now encrusted with the sperm of
yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.
Experimental sex positions mean high risks of stains on your suede
couch; sex marathons must come at the cost of never feeling clean again.
And
then there's the sex itself. Even if the guy is blessed with the
ability to outlast several orgasms on your end, it still never goes on
for as long as it does with the barrier method. Jason Segel in I Love You, Man masturbating with a condom to reduce sensitivity was onto something. Women just take longer to get there. Wouldn't you want to give yourself every advantage?
And
as for me, who is on hormonal birth control but still thinks 0.1
percent chance of getting pregnant is too high a percent: A condom
reassures me that no rogue sperm will ever wiggle its way up there. It's
not something I think about often but why not completely remove the
idea from my head? Because it will go there. Everyone knows a friend of a
friend of a friend who it's happened to. Also, I have the internet.
Protect my brain and extra-protect my vagina by wrapping your junk up.
This
concept of "Now that we've both been tested, and you're on birth
control, my penis is FREE AT LAST, #YOLO, NEVER GOING BACK" is bullshit.
Condoms deserve better than being classified as the training wheels of
sex: perfectly fine but discarded forever once you're in a committed
relationship and ready to ~really~ ride.
If
a guy only ever puts on a condom to keep his own dick clean during
period sex, or doesn't get how messy or inconvenient it can be for you,
is he really worth it? Condoms aren't lined with little needles. Condoms
are completely fine. And putting on a condom when you're in a
monogamous relationship and you know your sexual histories doesn't make
your man a martyr. It just makes him aware that you sometimes want your
sex to come with "OK, babe, be right back, just gotta gently place this
in the trash and not toss it on the ground with reckless abandon because
I love and respect you and your need to not get my man juice
everywhere. Also, after I've thoroughly washed my hands, want me to
bring you a doughnut, you postcoital queen?"
We can all do better.
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