Every guy thinks he's God's gift to women.
We're raised to brag about our conquests, play off our mistakes and tell tall tales of our talents in the bed room.
It's really just part of our ego.
And that's what made my life on this particular fall day quite miserable.
See, my name is Tom. I'm a 25-year old male who has never been in a serious relationship and while I've had my share of sexual experiences, they're really nothing worth bragging about.
In fact, it would probably be the opposite.
Every single time I've had sex, it's been with the intention of developing things into something more serious. Only problem is, that's not what the other person wanted and, in the end, I was left pondering what went wrong.
It's not that I'm a bad looking dude. I'm 5' 10'', 180 pounds, lean and somewhat muscular. It's just that things never quite seem to go my way in this department.
There was Tammi, the drunk 19-year old I lost my virginity to on a college-sponsored spring break trip four years ago. She was my first and I spent the entire week flirting with her. Sure, it was fun, but something about a girl leaving to throw up moments after climax was a tad disheartening.
Safe to say things didn't really blossom after that.
Then came Sheila. Oh, lovely Sheila.
Sheila and I met in an advanced math class my junior year and fooled around for a little over two weeks. She was the first person I ever went down on, the first person who ever went down on me and everything was going well...until she told me she found someone else and wanted to "just stay friends".
Lastly, there was Ashley.
Ashley was my most recent real conquest (the occasional blowjob by a one-night stand notwithstanding) and we met through mutual friends at a birthday party.
I never really thought she was that into me until the night we were hanging out at a local bar and started flirting. Flirting led to hugging. Hugging led to kissing. Kissing led to ... well, you get the drift.
The only snag was, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how long I went down on her or changed positions, I couldn't make her cum.
I just couldn't do it.
She never told me what was wrong, and I thought she was having a good time, but we could never get her past that obstacle.
Needless to say this hurt my self confidence.
Which bring me back to my original point.
As guys, we're trained to think we're God's gift to women. When something throws a chink into that plan, it's hard to know where to go from there.
Luckily for me, I wasn't alone in my journey to reclaim my confidence.
==========
No matter how bad I think I've had it, my friend Amber always finds a way to one-up me.
When I told her the story of Tammi, she told me about how when she lost her virginity, it hurt so much she cried the entire time.
I told her how much it hurt when Sheila ended things and she came back three weeks later having just caught her boyfriend Mark having sex with some other girl.
Over the past two years, Amber and I have had our share of bad luck in the relationship department and I knew that I could turn to her for advice on how to gain my confidence back after the Ashley fiasco.
I never expected it to turn out the way it did, though.
It all started with a text message.
"Hey, you free tomorrow night?," I asked. "I really need some advice and am feeling like shit right now,"
Amber said she had to work until six, but after that, she'd come over and we'd rent a movie, veg out and get my mind off things.
True to form, she was at my door with ten minutes to spare and as I took her coat, I could tell she had something on her mind as well.
"So, what's going on?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing much," she replied. "It's just the same ol' shit. Met this guy named Ken on EHarmony, went out for some drinks and he said he just didn't feel a connection. What the hell is that? First off, this guy was like 20 pounds overweight and then he says HE doesn't feel a connection? I swear, if my mother wouldn't kill me, I'd give up men altogether."
"Hey, don't lump us all together. There are still some of us out there that are good," I said.
"Yeah, but they're all gay or married or both," she chuckled.
We went on like this for about an hour. I told her about Ashley, she shook her head and did her best "Come on, you're better than that" speech.
It really wasn't having an effect.
"Well, you want to drink your troubles away?" she asked.
"Sure, why the hell not?" I replied and got up to head to the fridge. "The usual?"
"You know it,"
Back from the fridge I came with a hard lemonade for her and a mix of Jack and Coke for me.
The booze made the movie we were half-watching a tad more enjoyable, but I still to this day couldn't tell you what it was about. Something about a guy trying to avenge his family's loss or some crap.
It was right around 9 p.m. when I really started feeling a little bit buzzed, and then Amber asked me a question I really didn't know how to answer.
"Tom, do you think I'm pretty?"
"Well, um, yeah. You know you're good looking, I mean, people stare at you all the time."
In truth, I wasn't lying. At 5' 5'', 125 or so pounds, Amber had a body most 23 year olds would kill for. She was fit but not muscular, strong but not masculine. And as far as T&A, well, let's just say that I've taken my fair share of glances.
I never asked her directly, but I had to believe she was on the small side of a C cup, with wavy brown hair that flowed down to her enviously round ass. Just picturing it now brings a smile to my face. The curves caused her jeans to roll around, nearly forming a perfect half-circle. I always wondered what it would be like to see her naked, but chalked it up to my genes and the fact that as a man, I'm inclined to wonder that about just about everyone.
"So what's wrong with me that I can't find someone?" she asked.
"Eh, nothing. I mean, you know it will happen when it happens. These things take time." I answered back, trying to sound polite while spewing those lines for the 10,000th time.
"I just don't get it," she responded with a slight sigh. "I see these women everywhere with boyfriends ten times as hot as them. What do they know that I don't?"
"Maybe they're sluts," I joked, causing her to hit me with one of the pillows on her side of the couch we were sharing.
"You make it sound like I'm a prude," she smirked. "Trust me, I'm far from it."
"Oh yeah, here it comes. Is this you're 'I'll do things with the right guy' moment?" I asked.
"Shut up," she barked kiddingly. "It's true. I'm not gonna fuck some guy on the first date, but it's not like I'm waiting for marriage either."
"So what are you waiting for?" I asked.
"Someone to say they like my tits," she responded.
We both immediately fell to the couch laughing. I hadn't expected such a blunt answer from her, and while I was sure she was joking, I couldn't pass up such a window.
"Well, I like your tits," I said.