Our love story began as all great love stories do: I was young, he was from Canada.He was also handsome, alluringly old (probably 30) and visiting my college campus from out of town. His name was Mike. Or something. I don't know. It was a long time ago. I'd worn black silk pajamas to a party, and come back to my dorm room with him. I was still wildly inexperienced and thought maybe we'd just gently dry-hump to whatever ambient noise band I was pretending to like at the time, but it looked like we were going all the way, and that was cool with me, because I was at that point in my sexual career where each new conquest felt like a punch on a sub club card. In fact, let's just go ahead and say that the title of my memoir is going to be "But There Was No Free Sandwich."I was once on a road trip with my mom when she had the brilliant idea to play an audiobook of Jeremy Irons reading "Lolita" that she'd gotten from the library. She'd never read "Lolita" before and thought that the sex was implied, and that furthermore, it was a cautionary tale about dealing with pedophiles. INCORRECT. INCORRECT, MOM.
We pretended we were above being embarrassed for about one chapter before somebody cracked and socked the eject button on the tape deck. But not before I was struck by this little chunk of literary porn quartz: "I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion." This is how I will forever be doomed to think of that moment when you first touch a dude's wiener. I wish I could make my mind go blank, but there's Gruber from "Die Hard" in my head, talking huskily about handjobs.But before I had a chance to do anything with his (why God) scepter, he whispered, "So why don't you tell me about my dick?"Look, I was born a pervert, but I had to become a sex writer. Despite the fact that I was on a high school improv team and had already logged many hours of reading slash fic, I have never blanked so hard in my entire life, and I once said that Chile was in "the sestern hemisphere" during a geography bee.
Oh, jeez, what would you like to know? I wondered. So, "Oh, jeez, what would you like to know?" I asked. "Tell me about it," he urged again. "Like, about…?" I prompted."You know what to say," he said.
I decided to play the coy 18-year-old card. I mean, I was already taking a Comp Lit class. What did I need this for?
"I don't know what to say," I whispered, in my best sexy-baby voice. He stopped kissing me.
"Papa will teach," he replied.And there it was.
Papa will teach, my friends!
Look, I've since grown into an vibrant adult person capable of the most florid and deplorable kinds of dirty talk you'd ever want to hear. I mean, stuff that makes "Naked Lunch" look like "Naked Meal Replacement Shake." Stuff that would turn Jonathan Franzen's hair white, is what I'm telling you.
But there's a difference between saying something depraved and sexy and doing open mic slam poetry with no clothes on. There's the argument to be made that it doesn't matter WHAT you say so long as it's in the moment and you're hot for the other person, but I say this is horsefeathers. Some stuff you just should not ever say to someone, although Emily and I are divided on invoking nicknames for parents during sex.
In fact, every time dirty talk has been bad for me, it's because it infantilized me in some way. The girl who told me I tasted "yummy" (I don't even want to hear this word at BRUNCH), and the guy who kept repeating over and over that I was a "bad, bad baby," which: Yikes. I love dirty talk. Dirty talk is great. But I think we can agree that there are few things worse than bad dirty talk. Bad dirty talk is the DOTS in the Halloween pillowcase full of sex candy. What is this, get it out of here, I do not want this shit stuck in my head for ever.Of course, I asked the other xoJane editors (inspired by this past week's "Girls," clearly) to share the most memorable things we've heard in bed.Emily: I'm sure guys have said "weirder" things, but this one always stuck with me. When I was in college, I hooked up with this guy who would finger me and say: "Wait for it....wait for it...." I never knew what I was waiting for.Kate: Once a tiny Irish man asked me if I wanted to stop in the middle and get a glass of milk. ?!?!?!?!?!Olivia: I don't know if this counts. But once I made fun of a dude I was sleeping with for wearing a pinky ring, and he told me he has to wear it so he doesn't stick his finger too far up girls' assholes. Mandy: Most memorable was from [Name of Beloved Writer Redacted For the Sake of His Privacy and Mandy's Professional Reputation]. I said, "Do you think I'm a dirty little slut?" And he said, "Yes, you stupid fucking cunt." (Ed note: he also did pushups while she blew him. I repeat: a man stopped hooking up with Mandy long enough to do some calisthenics. OK -- please go about your day.)Louise: "I'm like a porn star!"Marianne: I did have a guy ask -- in the middle of a blowjob -- if he could pee in my mouth. Bad timing, dude.Anonymous XOJane Editor: I got drunk, went home and hooked up with a guy friend a long while ago. We ended up sleeping together (duh) and things were going pretty well ... until right when he was about to finish. Out of nowhere he said really loudly -- like he practically shouted -- I'm Gonna Cum All Over Your Face. And I said very loudly back "NO!!" and kind of pushed him off of me. I mean, he didn't even ASK. Daisy: "I love you."What about you guys? Tell Mama* your secrets.
*SEE? ISN'T THAT THE FUCKING WORST?