Want to catalog your sex life for Nerve? Send your complete list of bedpost notches, along with your age and location, to email@example.com. Don’t worry — we won’t print your name.
I was sixteen, he was sixteen. He was my first boyfriend, and had wanted to talk me into having sex with him for months. I staunchly told him no, and no…. until one day the hormones kicked in, and we had sex in the woods behind his house. It was sweet and slow and didn’t last long.
Matt – Round 1
My college sweetheart, a year older than my 18. Tall, lanky, kinky, and very republican with some serious daddy issues. I naively thought we were going to get married. Until one day I found out he slept with my roommate. His excuse? “I never thought I’d get another girl. You’re not that great in bed anyway.”
I was 21, working as a production assistant at a big sporting event. He was about 31, was a sound guy. Shaved head, good heart, nice all round guy. It was freakin’ cold, and I’m sure telling a 31-year-old guy who’s been away from his girlfriend that “I hear the best way to get warm is to get naked” wasn’t obvious at all. Three nights, just before I left the event for my college finals, made up the bulk of my real sex ed. This guy ate me out like no one’s business.
Matt – Round 2
We kind of reconciled. He still had a big dick, but he was sort of still a dick. It was angry, desperate sex on both our parts, I think.
Charles was my “Mr. Big.” I was new to Toronto, he was an entrepreneur/ philanthropist big wig of sorts. He was more than a decade my senior and that was catnip to a girl like me. We had spent weeks flirting online. He has a foot fetish, so when we finally met at a restaurant one night, I had slipped on the highest pair of stilettos I can handle. We barely made it through dinner, and retired to a local B+B for some of the hottest, loudest, nastiest sex imaginable. Of course, he went back to his wife the next morning.
This began my string of one-night stands. Mike worked for big telecom, drove a Mustang, loved Asian women, and loved to cook. He also would last forever in bed without cumming. He confused me.
I met Randy at a club. Big guy, again, charming as hell. We made out in a club, then a taxi, then all the way back to my place. I’m pretty sure he shaved his back and chest. He’s prickly. Months later, I discovered he blogged about his exploits. He called my apartment “A Model Ikea Catalog.”
Peter was blonder then blond. And tall — like Swedish. I don’t remember much about him, except he was going to make big money, and that he didn’t drive, because one day he’ll own a Mercedes with a chauffeur.
My love, my eventual husband. I came up a hill to meet him for our first date, and I knew I would be spending the rest of my life with him. He usually doesn’t bed girls unless it’s serious, but I persuaded him into my bed on our third date with a home cooked meal. We’ve learned a lot together.
He told me early on he doesn’t like to give girls head, but loves to receive. This caused HUGE problems later — and it took almost 10 years to rectify. Is he the best in bed? No, but he is certainly the most loving. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else in the world.
Todd was a mistake, sort of. Not really. Todd is the man I had an affair with about 3 years after I married Paul. We met online. Our relationship burned fast, bright, and nearly killed me in the process. He’s a bad boy/poet in a major American city, one I flew to in order to meet him. We met again in Vegas a few months after that.
God, he was great in bed. He gave eye-rolling head too. I saw stars every time. But I had a life to get back to, and Paul found out and gave me an ultimatum: stop it, or my marriage was over. So we stopped it, and I’m still married, and happily too.